


Maybe This Time

by BewareTheIdes15



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, College, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:31:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are worse things than being a freshman stuck in the senior dorm. Having three awesomely hot roommates, one of whom can't stand you? Well, that's a whole different ballgame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Now with [Spanish translation](http://z13.invisionfree.com/Supernatural_Foro/index.php?showtopic=5088&st=0) by akeste6 on LJ

There are worse things than being a freshman stuck in the senior dorm. Nuclear warfare, for example. Or dying of scurvy. Or being trapped in a tank filled with two inches worth of hydrochloric acid so you're slowly eaten away from the feet up - and Jared's never going to listen to Chad's ideas for the next _Saw_ movie again... he means it this time!

But yeah, definitely worse things. It's a quad suite after all, so he'll have his own room - even if it is the size of a broom closet - and he'll only be sharing the bathroom with his three roommates instead of the whole floor, so that's awesome. Plus they'll have a kitchen and living room with a TV, so yeah, sweetness. And any second now Jared's going to work up the courage to stop staring at the peeling blue paint on their door and actually go inside.

None of his roommates had moved in yet when Jared's parents had helped him put his stuff in their bland, echoingly-empty room early this morning and they still hadn't arrived by the time he walked his family back to their car and pried his weeping mother off of his chest with assurances that he'd take care of himself and that he knew pizza wasn't a food group and that he'd call at least every other day. He'd gone and picked up his class list and all of his books and supplies at the campus bookstore but now he's pretty much run out of excuses to avoid the dorm any longer and the giant bag of books slung over his arm is kind of heavy.

They're in there now - Jared can hear them through the door, deep voices talking and laughing easily above the soft beat of music. Seriously, any second now, he's gonna go in.

Any second.

Oh fuck this. Jared's a nice guy, a people person, and he's not fucking scared of three senior guys. Either they like him or they don't; they have to share space, not be best friends. Worst case scenario, he can stay in his room and just avoid them for most of the year.

The door slides halfway free when he pushes and he has to shoulder it the rest of the way open with the squeal of metal on metal as the old hinges complain. He nearly tumbles to the floor when it finally gives way, text books hitting the ground with a carpet-muffled thud.

He knows he's screwed pretty much instantly.

Jared's not a loser, ok? He was actually pretty popular in high school; on the soccer team, the newspaper and in drama club. The thing is, he went to magnet school, like a serious one; the kind where you're pretty much guaranteed to get into you first choice college on the school's credentials alone, even if you're only number four in the class. So suffice to say, there weren't a lot of parties or hanging out under the bleachers or whatever the hell regular high schoolers did because that shit could tank your college applications if you got caught doing anything even remotely illegal or against school policy - which means Jared's pretty much the definition of goody-two-shoes by default. And the guy standing in the middle of the living room, staring as Jared fumbles with his books? Definitely not a goody-two-shoes.

The guy is... well, ok, he's hot. Go ahead and get that out of the way because it's kind of distracting as hell. In fact, he's basically the prettiest person Jared's ever seen in real life, male or female. But yeah, not the important part. The important part is the steel-shine of a barbell glinting above disarmingly green eyes, another spanning the cartilage of one ear, not to mention the dark lines of a tattoo across the tight, rippling bicep peeking out from below his tattered grey t-shirt.

This is going to end badly.

Hot Badboy Guy looks Jared up and down for a few seconds, disapproving gaze like a physical weight - why did he decide to wear the pink shirt today? - before he opens up those pillowy lips of his - holy fucking hell, those things should have a porn channel dedicated to them... which is not something Jared needs to be thinking about the guy he's going to be living with all year long and who obviously already dislikes him - and shouts "New meat's here!"

There's a loud crashing from behind the closed door to Jared's far right, while a shiny bald head leans out from one of the open doors across the room. The bald guy smiles broadly – and, hey, he's also hot - like Jared's his favorite person in the whole world. The door to the far right jerks open suddenly, interrupting whatever obviously enthusiastic greeting Bald Dude was about to make as the sound of a steady guitar melody flows out of the room. Leaning with his hands braced on the doorframe like he'd just escaped the pits of hell is another guy, good looking too - wow, what are the freakin' odds? - with spiky, dishwater blond hair and the bluest eyes Jared has ever seen. Those eyes are sharp on Jared, surveying him hungrily and Jared feels himself swallow reflexively and take a step back.

A peal of laughter shakes Jared out of the intensity of the blue-eyed stare, jolting him back to reality when a hand slaps down on his shoulder. It's Bald Dude, still smiling and even better looking up close. This could be a very long year.

"Don't mind Mish," Bald Dude stage whispers, giving Jared a conspiratorial wink, "it's been, like, three hours since he got laid, he's getting desperate. I'm Mike. Hannibal Lecter over there is Misha and the human pincushion is Jensen."

The pierced dude, Jensen, looks sufficiently non-plussed but Jared's not really sure if that's about the pincushion remark or about Jared himself - those green eyes haven't left his face the whole time.

"Jared Padalecki," Jared nods and extends his hand which Bald Dude - Mike - shakes heartily.

"Okay, that one's gonna take some practice," Mike grins.

"What was that, again?" a deep voice inquires from way too close to Jared's ear. He jerks back instinctually so he isn't quite nose to nose with Misha's intense blue stare when he turns around. Man, these guys walk quietly - what are the chances Jared somehow got placed in a room with supermodel ninjas?

Jared clears his throat, trying to regain a little composure before he repeats, "Padalecki".

"I'm sorry?" Misha asks again, head cocked inquisitively to the side.

Jared repeats his last name slowly, going heavy on the enunciation - he's had years of practice teaching people his name. Except Misha doesn't seem to be paying much attention to anything but Jared's mouth, a slightly dazed smile on his face as he watches Jared form the word again.

"Misha, stop perving on the kid's tongue," Jensen growls, flopping down on the ratty couch in the middle of the room, staring at the electronic snow on the TV. He clearly couldn't be less interested in Jared's name or his mouth.

The unjustified rush of disappointment is quickly overcome by the heat of a blush rushing into his cheeks at the realization that this guy he just met had probably been imagining him doing obscene things with his tongue.

"Oh my God, you blush. That's precious," Mike's arm settles around Jared's shoulder and he hands over the last of Jared's spilled textbooks before he begins steering him toward the room Jared had claimed as his own that morning. "And don't worry, we'll protect your tender virtue from Misha. We all agreed to no roommate fucking!" The last part is shot over his shoulder to where Misha is climbing onto the couch beside Jensen, both of them searching the worn beige cushions for the remote since Jensen seems to have suddenly decided static wasn't all that rivetting.

"Like you can talk," Jensen grumbles, peering underneath the couch in search.

"Don't know what you mean, Jenny." Mike eyelashes bat innocently and Jared does a piss poor job of covering a snicker, but it just earns him a grin from the man next to him.

"Call me Jenny and I'll beat your ass, newbie," Jensen glares at Jared, finger pointed in warning and it occurs to him abruptly that that's the first thing the green eyed man has actually said directly to him. "Beat yours too, Mike."

"Yeah, yeah, heard that before." Mike leans against the wall next to Jared's door, still grinning good-naturedly up at him. "So listen, you got anything going this afternoon?"

Jared fidgets with his books, nearly dropping them again when he goes to run his fingers through his hair. He's still kind of reeling from suddenly meeting all three guys and trying to figure out what the hell's going on and how he's supposed to act and is too caught up in the overwhelming rush of it to put much thought in before he says, "Um, no, not exactly..."

"Awesome," Mike enthuses with another clap on Jared's shoulder, "Then drop your stuff off, and get ready for a night of greatness."

"And what qualifies as greatness?" Jared takes step inside his own tiny room, settling the books down on the end of his bare mattress, nearly tripping on the mess of his bags still in the floor. Mike stays just on the outside of the door and Jared finds oddly that he likes the man a little better for not just letting himself into Jared's personal space.

"The holy trinity - beer, pizza and sports! Plus, you'll get to meet my boy toy." Mikes eyes sparkle for a second before they unexpectedly narrow. "That's not a problem for you, right? The gay thing? Because if so, say now, or you're going to have a pretty miserable year around here."

Jared has no idea what to make of that, but he's instantly curious. Are all three of his roommates gay? And how the hell is he going to shut off the running stream of porn featuring the three of them now playing out in his head?

"No. No, not at all," he manages to choke out, sounding only mildly flustered but still blushing fiercely, "I just... you talk really fast."

Mike eyes him for another few seconds, searching Jared face. Then just as fast as it came, the suspicion's gone and Mike spills out a laugh, "Yeah, I guess so. So, come on, get rid of that crap and get out here. If we hurry we can order pineapple on all of the pizzas and watch Jensen turn surly."

Mike melts back into the living room where Jensen and Misha seem to have found the remote since Jared can hear one of the local news anchors talking about the start of football season. He rustles through his bags - most of them just black garbage bags stuffed full with three or four times the clothes he could ever need because his mother insisted - and realizes halfway through one, tossing a pair of black dress pants over his shoulder, that not only did he just agree to hang around with a bunch of guys he literally just met but is also actively stressing about what to wear.

Between that and the uncontrollable realization of how seriously hot his roommates are - even creepy Misha, and God, but he’s going to need some serious shower time if he’s going to keep from popping wood like a fourteen year old this year - Jared has officially hit his girly quota for the day, so he throws on a hoodie over his stupid pink shirt and heads to the living room, shutting his door behind him.

***

Jensen knew it from the very first moment he laid eyes on Jared Fucking Padalecki - he wanted to irreparably sully that kid. It was something about the honest, puppy-dog eyes and that imminently rufflable hair and those goddamn farmboy, slice of Americana dimples that just said 'sure, Mr. Stranger-man, I'd love some candy' and it went directly to Jensen's cock. Yes, it's probably twelve different kinds of fucked up, but it's the truth, and if you can't be honest with your dick, who can you be?

It's all kind of a problem too, because Mike wasn't joking about the 'no roommate fucking' agreement - that was the whole reason the school had refused to let Tom room with them in the first place - and, well, Jensen's not exactly Captain Relationship and the kid's a freshman and all so who knows how he'd handle being a casual fuck for his older, mostly-straight roommate.

All of this, of course, is completely neglecting the fact that Jensen doesn't know if the kid is even open for business on the cock side of the street, but then, like Misha says, everybody's a little bit bi... or maybe that's just everybody Jensen knows.

Either way, it would kind of suck to alienate the guy since Mike and Misha are already getting pretty attached to the little - okay, giant - fucker. You'd think somebody had just handed them a puppy or something, excited as they are.

Of course, Misha he gets; Misha is, to quote, 'sexually omnivorious' and Jared's pretty fucking hot even without the sully-able factor so Mish probably would have been all over him no matter what. Mike's so stupid in love with Tom, though, that there's no freakin’ way he's thinking about doing the new kid dirty and he still looks like he's ready to adopt Jared and buy him some shiny new chew-toys.

It's weird and confusing because, historically, their little group isn't the friendliest to newcomers - hell it took almost a year of living together for Mike to become an official part of their Friday night plans.

And, yeah, maybe Jensen's being kind of a dick about the whole thing, but it's pretty much be a douche or molest the newbie - how can the guy have that much charisma just sitting there, fucking breathing? - and the more he thinks about it, the more Jared pisses him off.

Who the hell is he to just walk in a make everybody like him? Jensen's worked for years to build his group of friends - went through the whole 'I may be gay' drama with Misha when they were goddamn eleven years old! - and there's no fucking way in the world it's right that this new guy can just step in and charm the pants off of everybody without putting in any of the work. It's... it's fucking manipulative is what it is! ... Somehow. Whatever, Jensen's not happy about it and he's not going to just give in to whatever mojo the kid's got working, unlike the sheep his roommates have somehow turned into.

They're all lounging around the living room; Jensen, Tom and Mike taking up the school-supplied couch while Misha crouches on his honest-to-God transparent blue inflatable chair and Jared sprawls his too-long-to-be-allowed limbs across the nubbly brown carpet - Jensen suspects it might have been beige once like the rest of the room. The empty pizza boxes lay dejectedly in the corner - including the pineapple topped one which he know Mike only got to screw with him even though nobody, except for apparently Jared the Wonder Boy, even likes fruit on their pizza - while the empty beer bottles lay pretty much everywhere else.

The kid had even refused a fucking beer until Mike had forced it on him, which was as close to cardinal sin as Jensen could imagine; thou shalt not turn down free beer. The noob has officially made his shit list.

A fair portion of their time - their 'guy's night' time, their 'hang out and reconnect after a long summer apart' time, definitely not their 'let's squee like teenage girls about how cute the new freshman is' time - has been spent asking Jared inane personal questions, so it's not a complete shocker when Mike finally gets around to one of his 'big three' make or break friendship issues.

“Alright, Jay-bird,” Mike says around a mouthful of pizza - he's all class - sweeping his free arm across the back of the sofa behind Tom's shoulders, “this is quite possibly the single most important question you will answer in your entire college career, so think carefully before you answer.” Tom smiles encouragingly and Jensen rolls his eyes and goes to get another beer while Misha watches the proceedings with that calculated intensity that can still make Jensen's skin crawl, even after all these years. “How do you feel… about _The Lord of the Rings_?”

Jared’s just stares for a few seconds like he's expecting somebody to tell him it's a joke. His eyes flicker briefly to Jensen, and he has to distract himself from the instantaneous, ridiculous, protective instinct those searching eyes bring out in him by cracking open his beer on the blue plastic countertop. Maybe the guy's, like, magic or something. Or maybe Jensen should stop after this beer.

Jared clears his throat a little before he manages to tentatively answer, “I’ve read it seven times.”

The room remains completely silent, whole conversations taking place in the exchange of heated looks and Jared ducks his head, obviously knowing that he may have just gotten himself labeled as an irredeemably loser. Then Tom’s voice calmly breaks through the quiet, fixing Mike with a steady gaze.

“Mike, we had a good run, but I simply cannot deny this powerful connection to my soulmate.” Tom slides onto the floor carpet next to Jared, one thickly muscled arm settling around his narrow waist.

“You realize, Paddywhack, this means war.” Mike says it with the utmost solemnity but his eyes are sparkling.

“Don’t worry about him, baby,” Tom coos, petting over Jared’s chest with one of his giant hands, “it’s just you and me now. It’ll be so refreshing to be with someone who’s an appropriate height for me.”

“Oh that’s it, Welling, your ass is mine.” Mike launches himself off of the couch and Tom vaults over Misha's chair, before they both end up tumbling to the ground with a thump that's probably going to get somebody calling the RA.

“Wait, wait, wait. We need to settle this now,” Misha holds up his hand firmly, dragging their attention away from the impromptu wrestling match that's ended with Mike held firmly in a headlock, Tom’s knuckles rubbing in little pink patch on his boyfriend’s scalp. “Jared – straight, gay or bi?”

It's such a Misha thing to do - wait around for hours trying to suss the kid out and then finally just come right and ask him in no uncertain terms, in front of God and everybody. Jensen barely restrains the urge to hug Misha for making the new guy look so uncomfortable. Jared's bright pink again - which is not cute, no matter what Mike says - and those long, spidery fingers of his slide up into the thatch of wavy softness - not that Jensen's imagining what Jared's hair would feel like - before he grins unsteadily.

“None of the above. I’m asexual, like Godzilla.”

“Dude," Misha says darkly, but Jensen catches the glimmer in his eye - well, so much for Misha just wanting to fuck the kid and forget about him - "you did not just reference the remake.”

“What?" Jared shrugs, mock-naively "I like the idea of Ferris Bueller taking down Godzilla.”

“Now there’s a movie I’d watch!” Mike enthuses, finally slipping free of Tom's grip only to shove the larger man off balance and rush across the room to use Jared as human shield.

That devolves rapidly into a heated debate over the best Godzilla movie, which then slides into monster movies in general and then somehow into a discussion of whether pineapple is, in fact, a morally reprehensible pizza topping - which it clearly is. It doesn't escape Jensen's notice that Jared never actually answered the question - he knew the kid was manipulative.

***

It's edging toward one in the morning, which doesn't seem so late for a college student, but Jared's not quite sure what to do except go to bed. Mike and Tom - who are so cute together Jared thought for a minute he was going to be physically ill - abandoned them half an hour ago, and Jared's suddenly really glad Jensen's room is between his and Mike's because he doesn't even have to strain his imagination to figure out what those sounds are all about. Misha hung out a little while longer - he's kind of like a particularly finicky cat, oscillating between stifling affection and intense, watchful silence but, in a weird way, it's growing on Jared; he's always been an animal lover - before slinking into his room and turning up his music.

Which leaves Jared and Jensen alone to pick up the mess of beer bottles - he's pretty sure there's a rule about drinking in the dorms, but since it's mostly seniors in the building, no one seemed to care that Tom walked all the way up to the third floor with a case of Corona on his shoulder.

Jensen is really a quandary, even more than Misha. Jared's at least pretty sure that Misha likes him; he gets the impression Jensen may be imagining him in various states of brutal murder. The guy seems nice enough really, at least with his friends. Once they settled in with the food and beer and the game started, Jensen was all smiles and jokes - a dry wit, but quick and smart - and seemed completely in his element, not at all the gruff tough-guy Jared had imagined him as. In fact, if it wasn't for the way Jensen kept looking at him in variations of 'fuck off and die' Jared would probably like him.

Actually, he's not entirely sure he doesn't like him anyway, although that's might just be because Jensen's clothes are in danger of bursting into flame from trying to contain all of that hotness. Then again, it might be his lack of beer-drinking expertise catching up with him.

Still, Jared's a friendly guy, and even though he doesn't automatically get along with everybody he meets, he's never had somebody show the kind of instant dislike for him that Jensen's been throwing his way all night. If Jared was smart, he would take it as a signal to shut the hell up and leave the guy alone, but Jared kind of sucks at the awkward silence thing and, well, sure they didn’t _have_ to be friends, but life this year would be a whole lot easier if he and Jensen could just get along.

"So how long have Tom and Mike been together?" he asks. It seems like a nice neutral subject; they both like Tom and Mike. Jensen glares at him though and Jared's pretty sure his sneakers may have melted to the floor under the heat of it.

"Forget about it, newbie, not gonna happen," he says flatly, shoving the last beer bottle into the recycling bin.

That may actually be the longest single phrase Jensen's spoken to him. Now if only he knew what the fuck it meant. "What?"

"The guys might joke around about shit like that, but they're totally gone for each other and nobody's getting in the way of that." His tone makes it pretty clear that Jensen would be more than willing to defend the integrity of Tom and Mike's relationship with his fists if it came to it. His stare makes it pretty clear he'd enjoy it.

"Whoa, whoa! No, that's not what I- I was just making conversation, man." Jared holds up his hands innocently as Jensen stalks past.

Somewhere in the middle of the room, the other man seems to stall out. Jared can't really blame him; if the racket Tom and Mike are making is that loud from out here, he doesn't really want to know what it will sound like in Jensen's room, but staying out here means that Jensen actually has to deal with _him_ and he seems to be really struggling between those two evils.

"Look, whatever I did that pissed you off, I'm sorry," Jared says, chin held up; because, damnit, he can be the bigger man, even if he is pretty sure he didn't do anything at all to justify Jensen's distaste.

"Dude, seriously, back off," Jensen warns as Jared tries to take a affable step forward. And the glare-a-thon continues. "Just because everybody else wants to buy you a friendship bracelet and braid your hair, doesn't mean we're gonna be best-buds. We share a wall, end of story."

The annoyance that has been mellowing under Jared's skin all night bubbles to the surface. Usually he's a pretty calm and collected guy, one who would laugh this kind of shit off. Something about Jensen, though, is climbing right under his skin and slamming each and every one of his buttons. It's one thing if Jensen doesn't like him, but he doesn't have to get antagonistic about it. It's not like Jared can help it if Jensen's friends like him better than some sulky, sullen pseudo-punk who can’t even bother with common manners.

Almost immediately he feels bad for even thinking it. Jensen and his friends are obviously close, and Jared did kind of walk in and hog the spotlight tonight. He hadn't exactly tried to bring Jensen into things either, so maybe this is just Jensen's way of acting out, maybe he just needs a little reassurance that Jared’s not going to swoop in and steal all of his friends or something stupid like that.

"It's not a big deal or anything, you know," he says softly, trying to paste his usual, easy smile on his face, "I'm just the shiny new toy, they'll probably get tired of me by next week." He shrugs and tries for a laugh but the wry grin that spreads across Jensen's pretty face makes him want to look down and check that he didn’t just stick his leg in a bear trap.

"You think I'm jealous?" Jensen chuckles humorlessly, sauntering right into Jared's personal space - which seems completely unfair after he got all snappy with Jared just a minute ago. "No really, you think that _I_ am jealous of _you_? In your dreams fresh-meat."

It's a wildly inappropriate time to notice that Jensen smells really good; a hint of something clean and citrusy, maybe an aftershave, underlined by the earthy warmth of coffee and something indistinct that he suspects is just Jensen himself. Or that he has little gold flecks in the green of his eyes, or the sugar-fine dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. And it's a really really shitty time to notice that he moisturizes his gorgeous lips, because they're smooth and full and kissable, none of the rough skin tags that so often mark Jared's own. It all kind of distracts from the fact that Jensen just pretty seriously insulted him until the moment to stomp out in outrage has already past.

So instead he shoves at Jensen's broad shoulders, ignoring the warm firmness of muscles under his hands, and shoves the smaller man, making him stumble backward into the couch.

In retrospect, that was probably a really bad idea because Jensen looks pretty built and Jared’s never actually been in a real fight before. Jensen's eyes flash, molten ager underneath the pools of green, but luckily for Jared, he reins it in just as fast. The sneer he directs Jared's way seems more than justified after that, even if it does make him kind of regret that Jensen didn't start anything - it might just be worth the ass kicking he'd surely take just to get one good shot in right now.

"Touch me again, and I'll make you bleed, kid," Jensen says, and there's no doubt in Jared's mind it's a promise.

He watches the smaller man trudge angrily into his room, the sound of the jamb-rattling door slam momentarily drowning out the noises Tom and Mike are still making.

With a pissed off snort that sounds ineffectual even to Jared, he follows suit, making sure to slam his door just as loudly.

***

"Come on, he can't be that bad," Daneel sighs, twirling her straw the mound of whipped cream on top of her frappuccino.

"And yet, he is." Jensen wipes ferociously at the same brown spot on the counter he's been trying to scrub away for the last couple of minutes. Things are pretty quiet this time of morning, only a couple of early risers brave enough to trek down to the campus bookstore for their morning caffeine jolt. Jensen's already knocked back three espresso shots to get himself into gear this early, but now he's got all of this pent up energy pinging around in his system and nothing to do with it but clean every last inch of the coffee counter.

For right now it's just him and Genevieve splitting the shifts, so he's stuck here with nothing to do while she has an early poli-sci class. But even with the morning shifts, things aren’t usually too bad - Jensen actually likes his job. He's a self-admitted coffee addict - but hey, there are worse things, right? - so the fact that he gets to scam all the java he can drink is kind of a dream come true. And he knows a lot of people get sick of the smell when they work in restaurants and things, but he actually enjoys being able to go home most days smelling like coffee beans and steamed milk; it’s like his own signature scent.

Today though, the job basically sucks ass because the store manager - who also happens to have been one of his best friend since high school, which she thinks somehow entitles her to butt into his personal life - has decided to take up for goddamn Jared, like the guy doesn't have enough people singing his praises.

"Because he's good looking and funny and everybody likes him?" Daneel leans across the counter next to the cash register, watching Jensen scrub as she sips on her frilly sugar-bomb.

"Yes!" he snaps back loudly in frustration.

The harried looking girl who's camped out in one of the back booths glares at Jensen over her mound of books. It does absolutely nothing to quench his urge to shout - it's only the first week of school for crying out loud, quit freaking out already!

"You know what he did yesterday?" Jensen continues, turning his back on the super-stresser to glare at his friend who has now perched herself up on his newly cleaned counter. "He used my chin up bar!"

Daneel cocks her head thoughtfully at him, brushing an errant strand of red hair out of her eyes. "The one over your bedroom door?"

"Yes!"

"And he didn't ask you?"

"No!"

"Were you home so he could have asked you?"

Herein lies the downside of having the same friends for years, they can fucking read you. "Well, no, but that doesn't mean he can just use my shit whenever I'm not there."

"Was your bedroom door open?"

"Daneel," Jensen says warningly.

"So, to recap" Daneel deadpans, flipping her legs over the counter so she's now facing Jensen, "while you weren't home, your roommate used the chin up bar over your open bedroom door - which I think technically qualifies as part of the living room anyway - to exercise. That bastard, I can see why you hate him."

"Forget it," Jensen grumbles. Why is it that nobody understands his problem with Jared?

"I don't know, Jen, the guy seemed pretty nice when I interviewed him."

It takes a few seconds for the caffeine-jittery cogs in Jensen's brain to piece that together enough to screech - in a very manly way - "What?"

"Oh yeah," Daneel breezes, "he interviewed for the clerk position on the book side. Did I forget to mention that? Silly me"

"Tell me you didn't." Jensen braces his hands on the counter on either side of her shapely legs, one fist still wrapped up in the dirty cleaning rag. She couldn't have, she wouldn't have!

"Didn't what? Hire the most qualified person for the job?" Daneel arches a perfectly-plucked eyebrow at him, "Yes, I did. He's worked in a bookstore before, couldn't help that he also happens to be your hot-hot roommate."

"Unhire him!" Jensen doesn’t even try to keep the growl out of his voice, for all the good he knows it’s going to do.

"Too late," she says, daintily sliding off of the counter, which puts her several inches shorter than Jensen, not that you'd notice the disadvantage in the way she's grinning, "already processed his paperwork. Can't fire him without cause."

"Why do you hate me?"

"Jen," Daneel sighs, leaning back next to the cash register and fixing him with her most powerful 'you're being an ass' stare. Which does not make Jensen flinch, not even a little. "You have talked about literally nothing else since this guy moved in - how he laughs, the stuff he wears, the way he hums in the shower which I don't even want to know how you know - it was kind of a pain in the ass until I actually saw him.” She gives him a soft smile which just makes Jensen’s boil boil even harder – he doesn’t need fucking pity! “I get it, okay? Just bone him and put us all out of our misery or else back off and let somebody else have a crack at that sweet ass."

"I don't want to bone him," Jensen glares right back at her. Because really, he doesn't. At all.

She rolls her eyes. "Honey, the _espresso machine_ wants to bone him."

Jensen gives up the whole conversation as a bust and goes back to rubbing away at the stubborn ass sonofabitching brown spot on the counter. "He's probably straight, anyway."

"As if that's ever been an obstacle for you."

"I'm not interested in Sasquatch!" Stupid fucking spot, Jensen hates it, really hates it, marring his perfect counter, horning its way in on his territory like an inescapable force.

"Of course not." She points imperiously at the brown blemish Jensen's now fanatically scrubbing at, "You know that's a part of the laminate, right?"

Jensen stares down at the little splotch he's been scrubbing at. And an identical one a couple of inches away. And another one over there. Crap.

"Shut up."

"So," Daneel flutters her eyelashes, pouting her glossy lips around the straw of her melting drink, "when he was doing these chin ups, was he shirtless?"

"Fuck off, Daneel," Jensen scowls, giving up on the retardedly spotted counter - how had he never noticed those stupid brown splotches before? - and turns around to arrange the stacks of paper cups into perfect symmetry; in no way thinking about Jared's glistening body pumping up and down on that stupid chin up bar, his muscles bulging and straining with effort.

"Was he all hot and sweaty?" she urges, poking at Jensen's leg with the toe of her sandal, "I bet he's stacked."

"I swear to fucking God, I am not above hitting a girl," he snarls. First thing when he gets back to the room, he's ripping out that goddamn bar.

"Aw, come on, Jenny,” Daneel whines, “paint me a word picture."

Jensen grabs the nearest heavy object his hands find - which turns out to be a blender - and threatens with it ominously.

"Nevermind," she chirps, hands help up placatingly, "the genuine article just walked through the door. Time to ogle!"

Sure enough, walking through the front door in his store-issue powder blue t-shirt - which clings to him in ways that Jensen's pretty sure are illegal in public establishments like this and is clearly not something he picked out himself since he actually looks decent for a change - and glances around searchingly. The early sunlight catches on the summer-blond strands in his mop of brown hair and makes it glitter angelically, the soft highlights of it on his creamy skin accentuating his sharp cheekbones. Jensen wonders when his inner monologue turned into a harlequin novel.

"Kisses!" Daneel tosses over her shoulder, rushing to the front of the store to greet Jared. Fuck it, it's not like Jensen needs friends anyway.

"Burn in hell!" he shouts at her retreating figure, definitely not watching when she skips up the front steps and gets scooped into a completely unprofessional hug by Jared's huge arms as if they've been friends even longer than she and Jensen have.

The harried girl shoots him a look again and Jensen flips her off, dumping Daneel’s abandoned drink in the trash a little harder than strictly necessary.

***

"Burn in hell!" is the first thing Jared hears when he walks into the bookstore, and it's no challenge at all to place that voice. Jensen's never actually yelled at him before, but that sex-and-cigarettes voice in pretty distinctive and, as far as Jared's concerned, the dead knoll for his hopes of finding a little tension-free space at school.

Daneel, the store manager, bounces her way the stairs and Jared scoops her into a big hug automatically - they'd gotten along really well in the interview and he was kind of hoping on them being friends, at least until he saw her talking to Jensen. She giggles into his shoulder and beams up at him once she's back on her feet.

"I hope you know you just doomed yourself," she says wistfully, "From here on in, there will be no more box lifting for me." She winks at him, and some of the knots Jared's intestines have tied themselves in loosen.

The powder blue looks good on her, though he feels like he's on his way to a baby shower or something and the polo feels way too tight, like it's bunching around his torso every time he moves. He has a sneaking suspicion from the way Daneel looks him up and down that that may not be an accident.

"So, Jensen works here?" That wasn't going to be his lead in, he's pretty sure, but he can actually feel the guy glaring at him from halfway across the store and it's throwing him off. Daneel just grin, looking particularly pleased about something Jared's not even going to try and decipher.

"Yeah, Jenny works the coffee station. Do you boys know each other?" she asks innocently, though from the daggers coming out of Jensen's eyes in her direction, Jared figures she probably already knows the answer to that. He wonders how very dead he would be if he actually dared to call his roommate Jenny.

"We live together," he replies as blandly as possible. He doesn't have to get dragged into Jensen's elementary school gossip-warfare, Jared can rise above it and be civil. Probably.

"Oh! You're the new roommate!" Daneel peeps delightedly like it's all news to her. Now that he thinks about it, he's pretty sure she said she was majoring in theatre. "Thank God, for a second I was worried Jen had already snapped you up." She hooks her arm through his as she teases, leading him through the stacks toward the register. "Of course, you two would be a cute couple…"

"Yeah," Jared barks a laugh, "the only way Jensen and I are gonna be a couple is if we get handcuffed together."

"Kinky," Daneel purrs right back, her eyes sparkling with humor, "I like it Jay. You are officially approved." Her hand waves out royally, issuing her edict to the essentially empty store.

He can't stop the genuine laugh that worms its way out of him - he's never been very good at holding onto anger, especially when the object of said anger is currently out of his line of sight. "Approved for what?"

She shrugs, opening the little gate behind the register island to let Jared in. "For whatever," is the simple answer she gives before launching into a spiel about how to work the register and the various codes he needs to know. He get so wrapped up in trying to memorize all of the numbers and buttons and discount codes he almost completely forgets about Jensen brooding, not fifty yards away. Except for how he doesn't, like, at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Except for the massive debacle that is living and working with a guy who hates him, Jared's having a rather successful start to his freshman year, if he does say so himself. His other two roommates - the non-evil ones - are great and have definitely made the transition easier, even if he does still get random bouts of homesickness sometimes. His classes are pretty well balanced - Statistics sucks but European History makes up for it. He probably shouldn't have been as shocked as he was to walk into his Abnormal Psychology class and find Misha as the TA, but about four seconds later it made way more sense than Jared ever wanted to think about and they've taken to hanging out after class together ever since. They talk about almost everything, except for Jensen because Jared vetoed that the first time Misha attempted to bring the subject up.

As far as the Jensen issue goes… well, it's not getting any better. Jared seriously can't figure out what the problem is; it's like everything he says and does bugs Jensen, like just his existence as a personal affront, which, of course, pisses Jared off in turn and makes him act even worse toward Jensen; it's just a vicious fucking cycle.

… Ok, not a fucking cycle, because that would be… well, they'd probably get along a lot better if they were in a cycle of fucking, or at the very least, Jared would feel a lot better. But that's not going to happen, so nevermind.

It's probably not helping matters that Jared has essentially hijacked Jensen's entire circle of friends - except for Sandy, who Jared met in freshman orientation, and Chris, who seems to have decided to side with Jensen on principle - so they essentially have to spend all of their free time carefully ignoring one another at restaurants and clubs and in their own freaking dorm. It's getting old really fast.

On the plus side, their class schedules work out so that they very rarely have work at the same times, even though they almost always share the weekend shifts - he thinks it's Daneel's way of trying to force them to get along or something ; Jared strongly suspects she's an evil genius, even if that particular plan is hopeless.

And the whole thing about Jared having maybe a tiny little crush on Jensen? Well, that's a secret, because his friends would probably try to have him slapped in a straightjacket if anyone realized the he had elaborate sexual fantasies about a guy he also a notorious, mutual hate-on for.

College is so much more complicated than high school.

He's working the register at the bookstore on Thursday afternoon - which he's learned is the higher-education equivalent of Friday afternoon, because, as Mike says, ‘anyone can survive one day of classes hung over’; Jared has the BC Powders in his wallet to prove it - trying to work out their literature presentation with Sandy.

"I think I'm going to start using 'swiving' in my everyday life. Try and bring it back, you know," she announces from her perch on the counter next to him, reading over the Chaucer passage yet again, as if the Old English is somehow going to be readable this time.

"Do you talk about medieval people fucking a lot?" he laughs gamely, getting a really weird look from the guy he's ringing up. Then again, the dude's buying _The Ice Man Cometh_ , _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_ and a copy of Cosmo, so Jared figures that the guy's in no position to judge.

"No, but I could just use it for sex in general," Sandy slurs around the pink highlighter cap between her teeth.

"True," he admits, stuffing the guy's receipt in his plastic shopping bag and handing it over. "Do you talk about sex in general a lot?"

"Around you, who wouldn't?" Genevieve purrs as she steps up to the register. Her sexy act cracks almost immediately, falling into a fit of giggles that crinkle her nose as she slides a plastic cup piled high with whipped cream in his direction. Jared 100% blames Daneel for introducing him to the wonder of frappuccinos, but Gen's the one who really enables him; she takes it upon herself to bring him one at least once a day when they share a shift, which just makes him miss her even more the days he's stuck working with Jensen.

"I know," he sighs, "my sexual aura is overwhelming. Try to resist throwing yourself at my feet." He gives her shoulder a playful shove before he finally gets the straw in his mouth – only almost poking his eye out once. Fucking delicious. These things are going to kill him.

Gen props her chin in her hand and smiles expectantly which makes Jared feel incredibly uncomfortable for the .2 seconds it takes for Sandy to snort, "Yeah, luckily for us your sexual aura is masked by a thick layer of 'klutz'."

"Hey!" Jared says indignantly, "I've got grace and elegance pouring out my ass." Unfortunately his hand picks that particular moment to knock over the display of ballpoint pens.

"Well there's an image that's never going away," she laughs, watching him scramble to keep from losing the escaped writing utensils in the abyss underneath the register. He gives her his best pouty face, but she just rolls her eyes at him, which is maybe part of the reason he likes Sandy in the first place; he needs somebody around who's immune to his puppy eyes.

And speaking of ebing immune to Jared’s charms… the door shunks closed behind Jensen, who stalks in looking thunderous, typical for whenever Jared's around. It defies several natural laws that he can look nothing short of edible in that stupid little cap the coffee counter people have to wear, but he totally does - Jared manages to channel the swell of lust into irritation, just like he always does.

"Nice drink," Jensen grumbles, eyes flicking to the - admitted girly - beverage in Jared's hand as he walks past, not even pausing when Jared shoots a sunny "Fuck you too, sweetheart," after him. That's pretty much the extent of their daily communication.

Sandy sighs pointedly - she's joined the 'can't we all just get along' faction which comprises most of Jared's social circle now - but goes back to highlighting. Gen looks at him understandingly - he can't even imagine what that poor girl has to go through being trapped behind a counter with that bastard, although she insists that he's really sweet - and pats his arm, fingers lingering in soft circles on his forearm.

"You gonna clock out or what?" Jensen shouts to her from across the store, though there's no doubt in Jared's mind the glare leveled their direction is all for him.

She giggles again nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Well, guess I better…" Her thumb jerks in the general direction of Jensen's brooding but she walks backward very slowly, eyes on Jared the whole time like she's still waiting on him to do something. He runs down his mental to do list to make sure that he didn't accidentally forget to return one of her books or something, but can't come up with anything. Finally she sighs, looking almost disappointed as she turns and moves at a reasonable speed toward Jensen's scowl.

***

Jared's on for another hour, but it passes quickly while he and Sandy hash out the specifics of their presentation and then he can finally hand the register over to Zach and go enjoy a lovely, Jensen-free evening in his room - he swears Jensen bangs things into the wall between their rooms every now and then just to piss him off.

It's a nice night, warm for mid-October, so they decide to walk. The campus is still buzzing as the sun sets, everybody either walking dejectedly to their last class of the day or else rushing back to the dorms to get ready for whatever party/club/unavoidable midterm paper they'll be spending the unofficial first night of the weekend on.

Sandy's a quiet little shadow beside him. The silences between them are usually comfortable, but Jared can tell his friend has got something on her mind so it's almost a relief when she finally spits out, "So, Gen?"

"I don't want to talk about him, San," he sighs in frustration. Jensen is, like, everyone around him's favorite subject.

"Not that one," she dismisses the thought with a wave of her tiny hand, "Gen with a G."

"Oh!" Jared says, instantly in a much better mood, "What about her?"

Sandy groans and tips her head back to the sky, holding her hand out like a plea to the powers that be.

"She likes you Jared." she holds up a finger to stop him before he can jump in, "I mean she _likes you_ likes you. Jesus, I sound like a seventh grader."

Jared readjusts the strap of his backpack, taking that one in. He's not oblivious of course, he'd kind of guessed that Genevieve had a thing for him, but the way Sandy says it makes it seem like he's supposed to do something about it, which… yeah, way out of Jared's depth.

"I guess," he shrugs finally, knowing there's no way Sandy's going to let this go, but he has to at least try, right?

"And do you like her, too? Like want to 'swive' with her, like her?" Sandy prompts and he can feel her watching his face. Between her and Misha he's going to have to learn a lot more control over his facial expressions.

"I- I dunno."

"Jared," Sandy's hand rests on his arm, not really pulling, but still enough to stop him dead in his tracks. "It's okay if you're gay. There's nothing wrong with that. You know we'll all support you."

"I know," he says to his sneakers. Somehow all of that quiet understanding in her soft, dark eyes is a little overwhelming. "I'm just… I'm not sure."

"About what?" she cajoles, sliding her grip down his arm to lace their fingers together. Her palm feels so tiny against his and he just watches it for a minute, her hand practically lost in the fold of his own. It would be so much easier if that did something for him.

"I… It's just," he sighs, trying to figure out a way to put years worth of angsting into words, "Okay, growing up, between my brother and his friends and thinking girls have cooties, I didn't really hang out with a lot of girls besides my sister, you know. And then my high school was, like, practically an all guys school; there were only four girls in our graduating class. And then, you know, now, I'm always around Misha and Mike and Tom and... anyway. It's just… I'm not..."

"You've always been attracted to guys, but you don't know if that's just circumstance or something real," Sandy finishes succinctly with a firm nod.

"God, I love you," he can't help but grin at the way she just instantly understands him.

She's not the first person he's ever talked to about this; he and Chad discussed it in high school when Jared first started to consider that he might be gay, but Chad's got the emotional range of printer paper, so it wasn't particularly helpful. He thinks his parents at least suspect - how many decent looking eighteen year olds out there have never been on a date? - and he's pretty sure Meg's had his coming out party planned for a year. He and Misha have gone over it, and while he's great to talk to, Mish isn't the most forth coming on advice; he says it's something Jared needs to figure out in his own time. Still, it's nice that Sandy knows, different somehow; maybe because Sandy more than anyone else has put him closer to an answer - if he was ever going to fall for a girl, it would be Sandy.

"Well, for what it's worth, I don't think that's how it works," she says matter-of-factly, tugging on his hand a little to get them moving again. "Otherwise everyone who ever went to an all boys school would be gay."

"Yeah, true."

The silence overtakes them again, but it's easy this time. Jared hadn't really realized until it was out there how much it had hurt to hold this back; in fact, a part of him had even been worried that he might unintentionally be leading Sandy on.

The sun has set somewhere beyond the tree line, the patterns of orange and gold melting into the indigo of twilight. Streetlamps flicker to life with an electric hum along the sidewalks, lighting the way back to Sandy's dorm.

"Look," she turns to him on the building steps, her pretty face painted over with seriousness, "this isn't any of my business, but as someone who's not quite as close to this as you are, I'll tell you this: I've never seen you really look at a girl. And with Daneel and I around, that's saying something," she adds with a wink. "And that's all I'm going to say on the subject."

She leans up - still shorter, despite the inches the steps earn her - to peck him on the cheek. He feels a warm surge of affection, but nothing even approaching sexual; it's almost a let down, he and Sandy would have been good together.

"Thanks San," he smiles, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to give her a tight squeeze.

"But you know," she muffles into his chest, her breath heating a little circle against his middle, "if you ever do go for girls, I get first dibs, right?" Her teasing grin is almost blinding and he can't resist tipping down to lay a smacking kiss on her forehead.

"You're at the top of the list!"

***

Their waitress passes around the tray full of salted glasses and promises to be back with more chips before she scurries off. The place is packed, a lot of other students stuffing in one last big night with their friends before having to be good boys and girls with their families over Thanksgiving. Fortunately they planned ahead - or, well, Dannel did - and reserved a table for their annual post-midterm 'let's get really drunk' extravaganza. A table for six, Jensen gloats mentally - no Jared! He's feeling so damn good about it, he almost wishes the kid was here just so he could rub it in his face.

Chris hands him the already sticky pitcher and he fills his glass liberally with the deliciousness of lime and tequila. They're frozen, which always makes him feel like a chick, but Dani bought this round, so he figures he can deal with a little girliness for free booze.

Unbidden the image of Jared pops into his head; leaning back against the register island, lips wrapped obscenely around the straw of his stupid girl-drink, sucking down frappuccino like it's manna from heaven with that look on his face - fuck, that look, as if having that straw in his mouth is pure bliss and Jensen's brain never fails to substitute 'straw' with 'cock'. Thank God the customers can only see him from the waist up or there would have been some really awkward moments at the coffee counter.

"You have to fuck him," Daneel says suddenly, reaching across Misha to get at the tortilla chips in the middle of the table.

"We've all agreed," Mike nods, spewing tiny pieces of said chips onto his place-setting. Tom gives him a disparaging look and wipes the mess onto the floor with a napkin.

"I'm not gonna fucking fuck him! I'm fucking sick of this conversation!" Jensen shouts. He hadn't actually meant to say it that loud, but whatever semi-Mexican guitars-and-trumpets crap the restaurant is pumping over the speaker system drowns him out enough to keep too many people from staring.

It would have probably looked a little better if he had at least pretended he didn't know who they were talking about right off the bat, but since the discussion had actively interrupted a... well, not a fantasy, just a thought, a totally casual, meaningless thought about Jared sucking his cock, it had kind of thrown him off.

Jensen takes an unnecessarily large gulp of his margarita and slams his eyes shut on the burst of brain freeze. Still better than having this discussion again.

"Genevieve has been trying to jump him for months and he's having none of it," Dani carries on as though Jensen hadn't just shouted how much he didn't want to talk about this to half the restaurant, "Obviously he's gay."

"Because that's the only possible reason he wouldn't bone Gen?" Jensen snaps before he can stop himself. He knows better than this, he should just ignore the conversation altogether and let her wear herself out, but sometimes his brain and his mouth don't agree on their course of action.

"Gen's cute!" Daneel chirps, shoving a salsa-loaded chip into her mouth so that the next bit is slurred around her crunching, "You wanted to do her before I threatened to fire you."

"Yeah, speaking of that - the rules don't apply to Jared?" Stupid, stupid mouth.

"I make the rules, they're subject to change whenever I say," she gives him her best hair flip, and licks an errant grain of salt off of her lips, "And now I say you have to fuck him." Mike and Tom nod their heads in unison - he may need to kidnap Mike for a few days just to make sure those two don't spontaneously fuse into a single being - while Misha just watches unhelpfully.

Jensen sighs, taking another deep drink of his margarita. There is seriously not enough alcohol in these things. "Don't any of you have your own lives to worry about?"

"No, not really," Misha shrugs easily.

"We're good," Tom agrees, because apparently he now gets to talk for Mike too. They need an intervention or something.

"I just make time because you matter so much to me," Dani says, resting her elbows on the table and clasping her hands as a little pedestal for her chin.

He looks hopefully at Chris, the last bastion of hope in a world gone Jared-crazy - and Jesus, it's fucking sad when Chris it the pinnacle of sanity - but his friend just holds out his hands helplessly. Jensen smacks his forehead down on the table, immediately regretting it when he feels the stickiness against his forehead.

"He's not going to stay single forever, honey," Daneel chides while Jensen's busy scrubbing at his face with a paper napkin, "It's kind of miraculous he hasn't hooked up with anybody in all this time."

"Just because you haven't seen it, doesn't mean it's not happening," Misha says sagely. Jensen doesn't know exactly how much sex Misha has, but he's heard enough drunken stories to know he doesn't want to know any more - the guy has game nobody gives him credit for. Right now, though, that fact is making Jensen's lungs feel hot and tight, like somebody split open his chest and drizzled in some hot lead.

Misha would actually fuck the kid without at least telling Jensen, right? Then again, those two do spend a lot of time together, and he's definitely heard their voices in Misha's room at night. Not like sexy voices, at least he doesn't think so, but then again he doesn't really know what Jared sounds like during sex and... what if Misha does?

"Regardless," Dani continues peevishly, "you're around him all the time, if anyone's got a shot at tapping that, it's you. And don't even try saying you don't want to because we all have fully-functional eyes, we know you do. And he totally wants it too."

Again with the nodding and the agreeing and the intense, blank watching from Misha - he totally hasn't nailed Jared, right? - and Jensen can't really seem to think of a good response for that with half of his brain caught up in suppressing the images of Misha and Jared getting all sweaty and naked together and the other half trying not to let those images make him want to dry heave.

"Come on, dude, back me up," he gestures wildly at Chris, who up until now had been firmly on the 'do what you want to do' side of the argument.

"Look, man," Christ crosses his arms over the table - oblivious to the margarita goo - and fixes Jensen with a solemn stare, "I love you, but you've got it bad for this kid. I think you just need to get in, get out, and get over it."

"You can't hit it and quit it with your roommate," Mike rolls his eyes and cuffs Chris on the back of the head which turns into a minor scuffle.

"Agreed, you need to be in a relationship with Jared," Tom says, pointedly ignoring the seated throw-down his boyfriend is having with Chris. Mike does end up tussling a lot, maybe Tom's just used to it.

"Seriously, Jen," Daneel jumps in - hoo-fucking-ray -, "I know you don't see it, what with your blinding pointless animosity and all, but you two would be kind of stupidly perfect for each other; totally aside from the steamy sex that I absolutely expect pictures of once you boys finally realize I'm right."

"The tribunal has spoken," Misha uses his almost empty glass as a gavel which Daneel and Tom echo as Mike falls out of his chair, taking Chris with him.

And that's just... well, that's way more than Jensen's ready to swallow for one evening, fuck you very much. He shoves away from the table, already making for the steps down to the bar as he calls "Don't follow me," over his shoulder. He cracks his knuckles as he goes, a part of him really hoping that one of them - ideally Misha - won't listen.

***

He'll show them. Not any of their fucking business anyway who and what he does, and he definitely _does not_ do Jared Padalecki. Or want to. Not really. Only a little.

Anyway, that's not what this is about - because contrary to popular belief, not everything he does revolves around Jared - this is about how his goddamn friends can't tell him who to fuck.

Since when do they care anyway? None of them have ever taken more than a passing interest in any of his pathetic excuses for relationships but now that there's this guy he absolutely does not want to start something with - mostly - _now_ they go and get bossy! Well fuck that all to hell, nobody gets to tell Jensen Ackles what to do.

Ok, maybe shots on an empty stomach were a bad idea but his fucking _pals_ had run him off before they even got a chance to order and he sure as hell isn't going back to their table. Besides, Jose's the only friend he really needs. Except for Jack, can't forget Jack. How many has he had anyway?

It takes him longer than it should to realize that the blonde from down the bar is sitting beside him now - because of the booze, and not because he was thinking about his dumbass, traitorous friends or how Jared would sound in bed - but once he does, he offers to buy her a round. See, he wouldn't do that if he 'had it bad' for Jared, so there!

She accepts enthusiastically, and then accepts again, and again, and damn, Jensen's really starting to feel it. He says something to that effect, he thinks, and the girl - Kelly? Shelly? Brianna? - seems to think it's really funny for reasons he can't even begin to process with the sound of her laugh piercing jagged little holes in his eardrums.

Jensen is not known for his awesome decision making skills. Jensen's decision making skills are not historically improved by alcohol. Logically then, the plan that immediately begins to formulate in his sloshy brain is probably a bad one, but hey, he did say he was going to show them.

"So, uh," he leans in to whatshername a little more unsteadily than he'd thought, letting his hand rest on the ample swath of thigh she's flashing in her miniskirt, despite it being fucking November, "You wanna get out of here?"

He ducks his head a little to look up at her through his lashes - not his most subtle trick, but with this much alcohol heating up his system, it's about as good as he can manage - and her cheeks pink up even further.

"I, um, yeah, okay," she nods breathlessly. She's cute, petite, and in absolutely no way tall, dark and handsome which makes her just what the doctor ordered. He lays his hand along the small of her back as she stands up and gets another one of those high-pitched sounds that make his ears hurt almost as much as the laugh.

He doesn't even try to hide his smirk as he walks past his friends' table, their wary eyes following him out of the restaurant.

***

Jared flops down on his bed, instantly feeling twice as tired as he did a minute ago - and he'd been pretty sure he was going to pass out from exhaustion in the shower. He doesn't have the energy to get up again, his feet still throbbing from taking on a double shift at the store so Daneel could go to her 'post midterm' whatever it was. At some point earlier in the evening, when his brain was functioning on more than the fumes of too many days worth of caffeine and sugar, he'd been slightly hurt that he wasn't invited, but he really did understand the need to keep some things sacred. They were all friends before Jared came along, had their own traditions, and he could be ok with that.

Right now he just really doesn't care, shimmying out of the towel wrapped around his hips and pulling his comforter into a cocoon around him. His cheap-ass mattress has never felt so good.

At some point he must fall asleep because the squeal of the door jolting open - they keep saying they're going to fix that thing - startles him into sitting up.

His door is still open - he's gotten more and more used to leaving it that way - so he has a perfect view of Jensen leading some girl inside. They both look hammered, him stumbling slightly when she leans into him, obviously letting him take most of her weight. They fumble their way over to Jensen's door, which puts them just a couple of feet away from where Jared's sitting.

It occurs to him about the time Jensen's eyes fall on him that he's naked, the comforter caught in a tangle around his knees. Jensen's eyes shoots wide, blinking a couple of times over the stunned silence of his agape mouth.

Jared - being, apparently, even dumber than he'd previously given himself credit for - slicks his hands back through his hair. He's fallen asleep with it wet, so now he can feel it sticking out at odd angles while a large part of his brain impotently shouts at him that his dick is getting hard, like cut glass hard, from Jensen just standing there looking at him and maybe he should, like, cover up or something to make this slightly less than the most awkward moment ever. His body seems completely incapable of following those instructions. Well, except for the getting hard part - that part he's still doing just fine with.

"Jensen," the girl hanging off of Jensen's side - hey look, she's still here! - whisper-shouts and Christ, well, there's a voice for you.

Jensen seems to remember her a couple of seconds after Jared does, and thank heaven for small favors, Jared's body gets back with the program as soon as those green eyes flitter away from him and he actually manages to cover himself up.

By the time he looks up again from compulsively checking that his stiff dick is hidden, Jensen's shuffled into his own room with the girl, the lock snicking into place behind them.

Well, that was fun.

He's just going to go ahead and blame his complete lack of functioning on being woken mid-REM cycle and assume it has nothing to do with the way Jensen was looking at him. Because for a second there he would have sworn... no, no way, not possible. Jensen Ackles would never look at Jared's naked body and see something to make his eyes go dark with lust. Had to have been the light or sleep-faulty brain synapses or something.

That theory is confirmed just a couple of seconds later by a loud thud against the wall opposite Jared's bed - the wall he shares his Jensen. And Jesus, fuck, of course the girl with the annoying voice is going to be a screamer. A screamer Jensen is apparently planning to bang right through the fucking wall. If there's a better 'fuck you, I don't want your dick' than that, Jared's never heard of it.

Jared flops back into his pillow, still damp from his hair, and smelling strongly of the industrial-sized shampoo they share. He wonders if Jensen's pillow smells the same way.

He can hear way too clearly the things the girl is shouting - yes and please and God and Jensen, barely slurred by the layers of plaster and drywall between them - and if it weren't for the erection-that-wouldn't-end he'd escape to the living room or maybe even Misha's room, but laying around on Misha's bed with a hardon might be a little too intimate, even for them.

His dick doesn't seem to mind the girl's screeching at all - Jensen's going to be deaf by the time this is over, Jared almost feels sorry for him - and instead is avidly focused on the deeper, guttural sounds he can pick out of Jensen's moans and grunts and gasps. It's confusing, arousal all mixed up with the way his guts are slowly churning with something that's a lot more like jealousy than he'd care to admit, but the blood just keeps funneling southward until he's so hard he's aching.

He barely has to scoot down the bed to be able to stick his foot out and kick the door shut - it's bad enough that he already knows he's going to do this, the last thing he needs is one of the other guys to walk in on it - before he settles back.

This is sick, way sicker than all of the times he's imagined what it would be like with Jensen - hot and rough, until they’re both so used up and fucked out they couldn't move - and it makes that roiling in his stomach double, a shot of adrenaline heating him up so much he'd swear he must be glowing. And despite it all, it feels so damn good when he wraps his hand firmly around his cock that it rips a moan right out of him.

On the other side of the wall, Jensen curses, almost covered up by a thud that must be him fucking the girl even harder if the pitch of her voice is anything to go by. But Jensen's getting noisier too, maybe more into it, maybe close to the edge; a steady refrain of words that sound like 'come on, come on, come on' to Jared. He hones in on that sound, tries to block out the rest, forget the girl’s there.

It's easier than it should be to close his eyes and imagine Jensen over him; his face flushed with exertion, freckles standing out in sharp relief, lips swollen thick with hard kisses, the way the light from the window would catch on the stud in his eyebrow, his ear, how badly Jared would want to lean up and lick that body-warm metal. He groans again, unrestrained because there's no way Jensen didn't hear the first one so he might as well go all out, and gets an echoing, full throated sound from the other side of the wall.

This is going to end badly, going to make things even worse between them, but he's too far in to back out now and it feels so fucking good. There's no challenge in imagining that Jensen's doing the same thing on the other side of their wall; straining to hear Jared's noises above the high-pitched grate of the girl's voice. He knows it's not the truth, but it makes his throbbing, precome-slick cock happy, so he goes with it, make more noises that Jensen pushes right back at him, almost like they were timed that way.

He strips his dick rough and fast, a little twist at the head because he imagines Jensen would be a tease, would want to ramp Jared up so high he couldn't think straight. Then, fuck, he doesn't need it but he wants it, so he slides one finger of his free hand into his mouth and sucks it wet. He can't hold back a whimper when he pushes inside his hole, no teasing this time, just straight up it the knuckle with barely enough spit to make it easy and it's so, so fine he's trembling all over.

The girl's quieter now, her sounds muffled by something, probably Jensen kissing her and Jared goes ahead and lets himself imagine it's for him, so that Jensen can hear him better. Somewhere in there the image shifts from Jensen kissing the girl quiet to Jensen kissing him and just like that the crackling heat swamping his lower body bursts. Thick ropes of cloying heat spatter his clean skin all the way up to his collar bone as he shouts his orgasm; loud punches of breath socked out of him with every body-shaking spurt of come.

Distantly, over the sound of his own voice and the near-deafening swirl of blood, he hears Jensen moan, drawn out and sharp on a sound that his fogged brain tries to tell him is 'Jay'.

He's hovering in the sweet drone of aftershock when he becomes aware of the girl's voice again, an emphatic, shameless purr of "Daddy". It takes a long long time for Jared to stop laughing long enough to breathe again.


	3. Chapter 3

Jared's standing in the register island, tapping his pen against whatever textbook he's reading - Jensen can't tell from here and it's weird that that bothers him, but right now he's got bigger weirdness to worry about. Like how guilty he feels, which is inherently stupid because he didn't do anything wrong. He had sex with someone other than Jared, and that might be something worth feeling guilty over if he and Jared were in a relationship or something but they're not even really in a friendship, so there's no goddamn reason at all for Jensen to have felt like shit warmed over for nearly three weeks.

It's not like Jared knows that the whole time Jensen was kissing that girls soft lips and smooth skin, wrapped up in her silky warmth, bracketed by her smooth thighs he was imagining someone taller and leaner and a hell of a lot more masculine. Jared hasn't got a clue that while he was over in his room joking around or whatever all of the moaning was supposed to be that Jensen was pretending it was real and for him and right there underneath him. And there's no way Jared's realized that Jensen hasn't been able to get the sight of that perfect, naked body, sleep mussed and bleary eyed and - fuckityfuckfuckinfuck - hard as a goddamn rock, out of his head for more than a couple of minutes at a time ever since.

So yeah, there's no reason Jensen should feel guilty. But he does.

He'd thought the break would help, and it _had_ been better with his family there to distract him with the last minute Thanksgiving grocery runs and the big updates - 'what are you going to do after you graduate?' gag! - then helping his dad put up the Christmas lights before he left. He'd barely had time to think about Jared at all aside from the car rides to and from the grocery store and in the long stretches it took to untangle and hang the Christmas lights and pretty much anytime someone wasn't speaking directly to him. Not to mention all of the hours after his parents went to bed and everyone retreated to their own rooms when he stared at the ceiling and pretended to sleep. Yeah, he barely thought about Jared at all.

Of course all of his friends knew or had guessed part of what happened - Jared's really enjoying dropping 'daddy' into the conversation whenever possible, because that's just fucking hilarious, right? - but Jensen hadn't felt up to filling in the extra blanks for them. There were some things even they didn't need to know and the only one he really could have gone to for advice on it from anyway - without the rousing chorus of 'I told you so' - was Misha and he hadn't worked out a way to slip 'are you having sex with our freshman roommate, because if not, I want him' into the conversation without just making things worse. Also if Misha and Jared are boning, he's not entirely sure he wants to know.

And thus, here he is, fidgeting around behind the 'teenage vampire romance' section - Jesus, that's a section? - trying to figure out if it's sweat making his palms so wet or condensation from the stupid frappuccino - with a chocolate drizzle and sprinkles, let's see Genevieve top that! - he keeps passing from hand to hand.

It's not like it's a big deal or anything, all he has to do is go over there and set it down on the counter. He doesn't even have to say anything, Jared'll figure it out. It's not like he bought the kid a diamond ring or something, it's just a friggin' drink. Yep, that's exactly what he's gonna do; he's gonna walk right over there and set the drink down and walk away, all without having a panic attack.

That should not sound as impossible as it does.

Fuck it. He can do this, he can do this, he can do this.

The plastic cup plunks heavily - back-stabber - on the hollow counter beside the front register, grabbing Jared's attention instantly. For a second he just stares at the cup like it beamed in from outer space and then his eyes - hazel, fuck but they're pretty - travel up to where Jensen is desperately trying to convince his feet to move.

It's probably only a couple more seconds but it feels like forever with Jensen's heart gnashing at the inside of his chest and their eyes locked on one another. He can't actually remember holding Jared's gaze for this long before, it's unbelievably intimidating, like a whole vial of sodium pentathol was just dumped into his veins and he wants to spill every obscene thing he's ever thought about the guy.

Then finally, miraculously, Jensen's feet decide to listen to everything his head's been shouting at them and actually start to move. For a second there he had convinced himself that Jared was some kind of gorgon with magic guy-freezing eye powers. Christ, he may have been better off with the harlequin romance internal monologue; at least that one wasn't retarded.

"Jensen?" Jared asks, as if it's not perfectly clear who Jensen is. And that's exactly the kind of thing he should snap right back at Jared with, but instead he gets stuck on the way Jared's voice curls around his name when he's not being snippy or grumbling or shouting. It's nice, a really good voice and it makes his insides feels all gooey, like they're going to melt right into one another.

"Jensen?" Jared repeats, a tinge of concern in his voice and all Jensen really wants to do all of a sudden is turn around and see those kind, understanding eyes that Jared directs at everyone else looking at him for a change. He's officially become a tween girl.

"It's not poisoned or anything," he snarks to the display of 'staff picks' just to the left of Jared's shoulder. Jared makes a ... sound. Damnit, now Jensen has to look at him just to figure out what he's thinking.

Jared looks confused, and maybe... wistful, or something like that. Soft, anyway. Not like he's in immanent danger of calling Jensen out on being a skeezy pervert who gets off to his roommate’s moans, so there's something.

"Thanks," Jared says quietly after a couple of years worth of silence. A lock of hair slips down over his eyes and Jensen's fingers twitch with the irrationally strong urge to brush it back for him. Jensen really needs to walk away like right fucking now before he does something even more stupid like fling himself across the counter into Jared’s arms.

"Don't piss yourself over it, princess. Some chick ordered it with skim, made it with whole on accident. Was just gonna chuck it anyway but I thought you might need your shot of estrogen for the day." It all sort of comes out in a bitchy rush, a surprise to his own ears, and he's not really sure if he feels better or worse after. Once upon a time, douchbag wasn't his default setting.

Jared's face hardens, but not quite fast enough to cover up the flash of hurt. Something goes tight and cold in the general vicinity of his lungs because Jensen put that look there and now all he wants to do is to be the one who takes it away, even though he knows he won't be. Jared probably wouldn't even let him if he tried, not that Jensen can blame him.

He turns and walks away - body responding just fine now that the little fantasy he had about Jared looking up at him and smiling has been crushed to a fine powder - before he can make things any worse. Who's he kidding? It could never work out between him and Jared, because Jensen's never going to get over the pathological need to screw up anything worth having. The kid's better off without him.

***

There are some definite advantages to living with your TA. For starters, Jared has at least an approximate idea of what's going to be on the final a whole week before the study guides are given out, plus he has the added advantage of being able to camp out in Misha's room and make said TA help him study. The downside is that 'Misha helping him study' usually turns into 'Misha has awesome pot' which is still a whole new world to Jared, and thus very enticing.

"DSM IV guidelines for diagnosing Bipolar I disorder?" Misha quizzes, throwing a red gummi bear into the air for Jared to try - and once again fail - to catch in his mouth. Jared snatches it up off on Misha's acid-washed denim comforter - swear to God - and pops it in his mouth anyway, letting gravity drag him backward into the mattress with a whump.

The hot-sugar-and-herb smell of weed still lingers heavily in the air, too cold out to open the little window, and the warmth of the little - against dorm policy - space heater crammed under Misha's desk makes everything feels heavier and looser, even with the shock of slightly cooler air coming in through the half-open door.

No way is Jared going to be able to remember how many Major Depressive Episodes it takes to meet the criteria right now, which Misha should know, and Jared takes that as cue to change the subject.

"So, I've been thinkin'," he says slowly, enjoying the feel of the words in his mouth. Misha's watching him closely, and it's all wrong that he can still look that intense when Jared can barely muster the energy to crawl up the length of the bed and flop down beside him. Sometimes he forgets how blue Misha's eyes are. Like, really, ridiculously cerulean blue.

"And?" Misha prompts after what must have been too long of a pause when Jared got caught up trying to think of metaphors for Misha's eyes. His breath puffs out softly over Jared's lips and he can't remember if he laid down this close or if Misha moved toward him.

"Um..." Jared stutters for a second, losing his train of thought as something melts like warm butter in the pit of his stomach. "Oh yeah, um. So I was thinkin', maybe, you know, next semester I should... maybe request a room change." He spits the last part out quickly, like if he says it fast maybe Misha won't make him talk about it. No such luck.

"You want to move out?" One day Jared's going to figure out how Misha says things with no inflection at all, but it probably won't be today. Those blue eyes just go right on watching him, daring him to try and lie right to Misha's face –which would probably be impossible even if Jared was a half-decent liar - and Jared ends up ducking his head to talk into the warm, dark space between Misha's neck and shoulder.

"No," he admits sullenly, picking absently at the hem on Misha's faded blue henley. "It's just. Things aren't getting any better between Jensen and me and it doesn't look like they're _going_ to get any better and it's just awkward as hell all the damn time. So maybe, if I wasn't around him, like, 24/7 we could at least tolerate each other or something, you know? Maybe it would be easier."

The silence seems to swallow up all of the really elegant arguments he'd planned to make when Misha tried to talk him out of it. But he's not; he's just laying there, idly rubbing his fingers through Jared's hair.

At last he asks, "Got that out of your system?" Jared nods slowly, going with it when Misha's fingers tighten in his hair just enough to urge him back and look in his roommates eyes. "Good, because that's the last I'm going to hear about it. You're one of us now, Jay, better or worse. We're not about to let you walk out, especially not over Jensen. His brain will kick in eventually."

"I-" Jared begins, then stops realizing that he doesn't actually know how to end that sentence.

"Besides, Mike would just chain himself to the front door so you couldn't leave." Misha smiles gently and Jared huffs a laugh because Mike might seriously do it - the guy has dedication.

He feels balmy and light again, the mellow butting it's way in past all of the angst he’s built up over the last few weeks thinking about this. He's never not had friends, decent guys who hung around with him and listened to him and stuff, but he also never imagined he'd end up surrounded with amazing people like Misha and Sandy and Mike in college. They're so good to him, for putting up with all of his crap and giving him time to short himself out and not just throwing their hands up in the air and giving up even when he knows he's being hopelessly pathetic. They're great, and wonderful and he doesn't know when he decided to lean in and kiss Misha but that's exactly what he's doing.

Or would be doing, if it weren't for Misha's fingers pressing firmly to Jared's lips, keeping him just shy of his goal.

"No," Misha says steadily, nothing but amused patience in his look.

"Bwuh?" Is about as close to 'what?' as Jared can manage with Misha's fingers still mushing his lips into his teeth.

"No," Misha repeats in a shockingly good impression of Jared's mother telling him that chocolate cake is not a breakfast food. He's pretty sure he can feel his stomach sinking right out of his body. Great. Perfect way to end that wonderful, open friendship. Sometimes he really hates himself.

Jared backs off sheepishly, blood flooding to his face until it feels hot enough to heat the room all on its own. He doesn't get far before Misha's hand slips down to the nape of his neck and tucks him back in against his roommate's shoulder, holding him there until he finally forces his body to go loose.

He's very confused.

"Jared,” Misha begins solemnly, “under normal circumstances I would not have wasted the better part of a semester not making a move on you. You're smart and funny and the hottest guy I've met in quite a while; trust me, in any other situation I would have jumped your bones a long time ago." It seems a little cocky of Misha to just assume he could have Jared anytime he wanted, but considering that Jared just tried to kiss him and he's generously not making a big deal out of it like he totally could, Jared figures he'll let that one slide.

"This isn't about that stupid 'no roommate fucking' thing, is it?" he says, because at the very least he has to know if Misha, King of Casual Sex, is turning him down over some idiotic pact he made with Mike and Jensen - because that could be another very viable reason to consider moving out.

"No," Misha chuckles, making Jared's head rock softly where it's braced on the older man's shoulder, "This is about the fact the Jensen's brain really is going to kick in eventually, and I'm not going to be an excuse for him not to go for it."

Jared suddenly feels like he's getting half of somebody else's conversation. "What?"

"Nothing, Jay," Misha soothes, and Jared's would seriously complain because he's not a little kid or something and he deserves to know what's going on, except the way Misha's hand keeps smoothing up and down his back in long, steady strokes is really nice, and Misha smells really good - not as good as Jensen, but that's something he's not going to think about - and he's all mellow again, so it feels really good to just lay there and breathe.

It's hard to say how long they stay like that, Jared halfway on top of Misha's body, legs tangled up together with the rhythmic shuff of breath drifting him into that quiet place between sleep and wakefulness that's a blessed reprieve from thinking.

In fact, his thoughts don't snap back into action until a couple of minutes after he distantly notes the front door squealing open, when a wad of paper pelts into the back of his head. He jerks up and around just in time to see Jensen practically sprint into his room across the way and slam the door behind him.

***

Everything sucks. Everything fucking sucks all the time now and it's all fucking Jared's fault. Jensen was doing just fine before that stupid freshman went and walked into his life and started dicking around. Now he's got this goddamn crush he can't do anything about that makes the bottom drop out of his stomach whenever he walks into a room where there's even a chance of running into Jared - to say nothing of the times he actually _does_ run into Jared, when he might as well be completely hollow inside from the cold, hungry feeling that wells up. And, because it wasn't bad enough that all of his friends were on Jared's side in the first place, now his best friend is actually fucking the kid or something so that Jensen can't even stand to look at him.

He's got no one to talk to about it because Chris would tell him he's being and idiot and Daneel would say that he doesn't even know if Jared and Misha are together - even though he _knows_ they are... basically - and Mike and Tom would probably just run off to hang out with Misha the traitor and his awesome new boyfriend so they could finally go on double-dates or whatever the fuck couples do together. And Misha... well, Misha's totally out of the question because Jensen can barely restrain himself from wanting to pound the guy bloody anytime he shows up trying to 'explain' and that leaves him with pretty much zero options except for brooding. So that's what he's doing.

Brooding's pretty good actually; girls always like the broody guys on TV and just as soon as every cell in his body stops being focused on Jared Padalecki every second of the day, he's sure he's going to get hella-laid off the whole act. Also, it's surprisingly vindicating to be able to just ignore everybody when they try and talk to him about it, because they clearly wouldn't understand or care. If it wasn't so cripplingly lonely, the whole brooding thing would totally rock.

So why does everything still suck?

***

Jared slams the door open with about twice the effort actually required to make the shoddy hinges give way. It hits the rubber stopper in the wall - the only thing that keeps to door knob from crunching right through the drywall - and rebounds into place behind him without Jared having to lay a finger on it.

Mike's door is open, his room dark - probably still trying to convince Tom that the LSATs aren't worth having a mental breakdown over - same story with Misha's - off being anywhere but here, just like he has been for almost a week - and it just fuels the righteous fire burning in Jared’s gut even more.

The light in Jensen's room is on, but he can hear the patter of running water from the bathroom and he barely pauses to fling his backpack in the general direction of his bedroom door before he jiggles the bathroom door handle to the right, displacing the broken catch of the lock and barges right into the steam-filled room.

"What the fuck," Jensen bellows from behind the white plastic shower curtain, tearing it back a couple of inches to glare out. For a second Jared would swear Jensen's face pales, but then he just turns up the volume on his snarl and pulls the curtain shut.

That works for the second and a half it takes for Jared to close the space to the shower and rip the curtain all the way back.

It's a challenge not to stare at Jensen's body, naked and wet, glistening under the harsh florescent light above the sink, but Jared almost completely manages it using the hot throb of anger rushing through him to keep his mind on the task.

Jensen flattens himself against the shower wall, feet skidding over wet porcelain with a squeak but he manages to keep his feet. His eyes are wide with shock, mouth slack-jawed and entirely too much like that night when Jared was the one naked. But he's here for a reason, damnit, and he better spit it the fuck out before he blows it by walking right under the spray too and kissing Jensen until he has the tile grout imprinted on his bare back.

"Look, you hate me, I get it,” he snaps, ignoring the way the air suffusing his lungs is wet and thick with the smell of Jensen, “ I can handle that, but you leave Misha the fuck out of it. He hasn't done anything but try to be a decent friend to both of us and we sure as hell haven't made it easy-"

"Oh yeah," Jensen bursts out suddenly, and ugly sneer masking his face, muscles drawing so tight he's trembling with the tension under the pound of hot water, "some fucking friend. Do all of your buddies get to stick it in or just the really special ones?"

"Fuck you!" Jared's hand shoots out automatically, and extension of the yell reverberating off of the walls. If Jensen was wearing a shirt it would be fisted in Jared's fingers, but instead there's just hot slippery skin that catches his blunt fingernails as he slams Jensen's body back against the tile, "Yeah, alright, I made a move on Misha. And he said no. Because of you. So yeah, he is _some fucking friend_ to still put up with your ass after you walk around treating him like dogshit for fucking days. You don't even deserve him."

Jared jerks his hand away from the almost searing skin-on-skin contact, his sleeve soaked through and dripping on the floor. He practically flings himself across the room, not sure if he stayed whether he'd fuck Jensen into oblivion or just beat the shit out of him. They seem equally likely, and equally appealing, but they're both probably bad ideas. "You got a problem with me, Ackles," he growls from the doorway. Jensen's still splayed out against the shower wall like it's the only thing holding him up and Jared resolutely does not notice the dark thickness of Jensen’s cock hanging heavy and hard between his legs. "Bring it on. Just leave Misha out of it, he didn't do anything wrong."

Jared walks away fast, tearing off his wet shirt as he goes, leaving it in a sodden pile in the middle of the floor. The bang of his bedroom door shutting is almost enough to drown out the soft pitter of the shower.

***

Jensen stands outside Jared's bedroom door, staring at the wood appliqué, his still-wet hair dripping intermittently onto his white wifebeater. He's an ass. A complete, jealous ass and it would serve him right if none of them ever talked to him again.

Jared was right, he doesn't deserve a friend like Misha, who, even though Jensen had been the world's biggest prick to him for days, still accepted his apologies without a single admonishment. He'd have rather done it in person, but Misha's been avoiding the dorm - Jensen - so they'd had to hash it out over the phone. Mish promised that everything was fine, said they could talk about it when he got home, said to 'go fucking to talk to Jared, you idiot, before you screw it up even worse'. Misha's a good guy.

Now what the hell is supposed to say to Jared?

Fact number one: Jared likes guys. Misha says so, and by Jared's own admittance he tried to make a move on Misha - a thought that still makes Jensen's stomach do envious little loopty-loops - so he definitely likes at least some guys. Fact number two: Jared got hard that night Jensen brought the girl home, got hard while Jensen was looking at him, so Jared's body certainly seems to be ok with the idea of Jensen, regardless of what the rest of Jared may feel about the subject. Fact number three: Jensen can still feel every point of contact where Jared touched his chest in the shower burning like he'd been stuck with a branding iron and if he doesn't do something about it soon he's going to end up rubbing his still-hard dick up against Jared's doorframe until he comes in his jeans and Jensen is not quite ready to ascend to that level of pathetic.

There's no choice, he has to go in.

It takes another four minutes of psyching himself up to actually knock.

Jared's door opens warily, his long, lean body - fucking shirtless, because the universe feels like punishing Jensen, not that he doesn’t deserve it - blocking the little gap effectively.

"I apologized to Misha." The click of his throat swallowing is loud in the silence. "Because I'm an ass," he goes ahead and adds after a minute.

"This is the sound of no one arguing with you," Jared says evenly. He relaxes a little against the doorjamb but doesn't open the door any further.

Jensen bites back the retort that jumps to his lips; he's supposed to be behaving himself, after all, and _not screwing this up_. "Listen, I- can we- Can we talk?"

Jared blinks at him stupidly. Or maybe that's morse code or something and Jensen's just not getting the message. Either way he goes right on blinking for long enough that Jensen starts to think about just backing away and chalking this whole thing up to some kind of weird misfire, even as his dick is trying to drag him forward like it's polarized to Jared's body.

It feels like his chest his shrinking by the second, the unfamiliar buzz of nerves - Jensen's not exactly used to being rejected, especially when he hasn't actually made an offer yet - backing up like a ten car pileup in his system before Jared finally swings the door open.

Jensen needs to be tactful about this, needs to lay out his thoughts and feelings very carefully and expertly so that he doesn't come across completely schitzo. So naturally he blurts, "I think we should make out," when he's halfway through the door.

Jared flushes from his hairline to his ribs, every inch a smooth, strawberry red, and maybe if half of Jensen's attention hadn't already been focused there, he would have missed the way the soft bulge at the front of Jared's sweat pants twitches, but he sees it and pretty much every nerve ending he's got send up a rousing 'hell yes!' in response.

"See I've got this thing," Why is his mouth still talking? Get with the program, mouth! "And I think if maybe we just- maybe we can burn it out or something, you know? And then shit wouldn't have to be fucked up between us anymore."

It hangs there in the palpable tension between them for long enough that Jensen’s pretty sure people down the hall and hear his pulse hammering before Jared finally splutters,"I-". This time it's Jared's throat clicking in the silence, "okay," he whispers, nodding his head absently.

There's zero finesse in the way Jensen shoves him up against the wall, mouth bruising into Jared's and teeth clacking painfully, but he's sweltering inside his own skin from the want of it, has been for months now without even realizing it, and there's no way to hold anything back now. Jared doesn't seem to have a problem with it anyway, pushing back just as fiercely, mouth opening to twist their tongues together.

There's a rough bump as Jared manages to get the door closed and Jensen just presses him up against that instead, hands finally travelling up the firm expanse of his exposed chest. His skin is almost shockingly soft, velvety under Jensen’s fingertips, and hot enough that it feels like ever touch is sinking right down into his marrow. And, God, but he’s beautifully responsive; the drag of one fingernail up the side of his neck has him breaking out in goosebumps all over, a gasp against his mouth when Jensen's thumb finds a nipple, whimpers when Jensen rolls over it again harder.

"Fuck, that's hot," Jensen pants, losing the words somewhere in the sharp little nips he’s giving to Jared's lower lip. He catches the peaked nub between his fingers and pulls, using it as much as the hand he has fisted in Jared's baby-fine hair to move them to the bed.

They tumble onto the mattress, Jared's hands immediately bunching in Jensen's shirt. He moans "Off!" which is an idea Jensen can totally get behind, except for the way Jared's mouth latches onto the pulsepoint in his throat just then and his capacity for movement is narrowed down to grinding against Jared's hips. Their cocks brush together, sending a cascade of sparks tripping up and down Jensen's spine while Jared’s body locks up like he touched an electric fence.

Somehow between the two of them they manage to peel Jensen's shirt over his head so that when they collapse together again in a flurry of hungry, open kisses there's nothing but overheated skin pressed together from chest to hip.

He nibbles down the jut of Jared’s jaw, soothing the bites with his tongue and memorizing the hint of salt on Jared’s skin. Jared’s wide hands slide into the back pockets of Jensen’s jeans pulling their bodies even tighter together, the denim grating just this side of pain against Jensen’s hard-on, ratcheting up the heat in his system. Jensen has literally never been this turned on in his whole fucking life.

Jared makes gorgeous noises, little whimpers and groans that would make Jensen's knees give out if he still had the strength to stand. And just like that his mind - which should totally be consumed with how Jared's breaking every known law of physics to be this hot - floods with all of the things he suddenly wants to ask. Like, were those noises Jared made that night - that sound so fucking much like the ones he's making now - real? Was he laying over here jacking off listening to Jensen bang that girl? Was he wishing it was him in Jensen's bed as much as Jensen was? And has he ever done this before? Has he ever done more, because Jensen's pretty much on board for as much more as he can get. And oh sweetholychristmotherfucker - is Jared a virgin? Can he pretty pretty please be a virgin just so Jensen can be the one to ‘deflower’ him? Repeatedly, if possible?

Of course Jensen's mouth is way too busy discovering all of the ways to manipulate Jared’s awesomely sensitive nipples to actually say any of that, which is probably just as well because there's a very real chance that Jared saying any one of those things would make Jensen cream his pants like a teenager and then they'd have to stick with the kissing - which now that he thinks about it, was the original plan, but fuck that - until he could get it up for maybe more in round two.

Wait, why is that a bad thing?

He's just begun to ponder that when it suddenly becomes a foregone conclusion because the second he gets a really firm grip with his teeth on Jared’s - almost certainly sore – nipple, the kid convulses under him and Jensen can feel that long, perfect cock flexing against his own as Jared loses it.

Jensen must be the luckiest man alive to get his hand down between them and get his fly undone - thank fuck he hadn't bothered to put on underwear - before that white-hot buzzing at the base of his spine explodes, covering Jared's chest in ropey, hot strands of come. If he could come again this fast, that sight would do it.

"So, um," he croaks out as his higher brain functions stutter back to life minutes later, his fingers playing through the cool mess on Jared's belly, "do we need to talk about this?"

Jared huffs a sound that's half laugh, half sigh, "God, I hope not."

"Sweet," Jensen breathes with relief, his whole body thrumming pleasantly with the endorphin high and the feel of Jared's rabbiting heart under his palm. The quiet's only broken by the sound of their breaths, but it's not as uncomfortable as he thinks it should be. In fact, if he lays here much longer, he's probably going to fall asleep and that- well, that's probably a sure fire way to make this awkward all over again. He'd said this was all he wanted, to work himself through it and that's what Jared had agreed to. So, he should go. Yeah.

"I guess I'll just..." he mutters, jerking his thumb in the direction of the door. He hoists himself up with a grunt, carefully doing up his fly around his tender dick.

"Yeah. Cool. If..." Jared looks like he's going to say something else, like maybe he's going to reach out and catch Jensen's hand but he just lays back instead. "Nevermind." He smiles though, and he looks pretty damn contented, pretty damn debauched, just laying there on his crumpled sheets, sweaty with his hair in a mess, little red marks stippling his skin from Jensen's mouth, marred slightly by the drying swath of come.

It takes a lot more than Jensen would have thought to walk out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Jared runs a plate under the faucet, getting most of the mess of Christmas Morning Egg Casserole down the garbage disposal before tucking the plate into the stuffed dishwasher. He's moving mostly on autopilot, letting his mind wander over the shush of water in the sink and the sound of his father and brother debating the best way to get Meg's new chest of drawers up the stairs.

The house still smells like cinnamon rolls and evergreen, has stray bits of wrapping paper decorating the floor. A coffee mug is the next thing his hand finds in the stack of dirty dishes by the sink and his mind makes and elaborate system of near-instantaneous leaps from coffee mug to the frappuccino Jensen made him that time to the way Jensen always smells faintly of coffee to the way Jensen's little coffee counter uniform fits to the way Jensen's mouth felt against his.

He doesn't realize he's grinning until his mother says, "So, who is it?"

Jared hadn't actually heard her come in, so it takes him a moment to process her standing beside him, looking up with amused expectation, and by then he's forgotten whatever it was she said. "Hmm?" he questions, toning down the smile a little because the I-got-laid-ish-leer is not a look one directs at ones mother, especially not weeks after the fact.

"Whoever it is that keeps putting that look on your face," she lifts an eyebrow at him, but she's still smiling. There's no way he can not notice that she hasn't used a gender-specific pronoun yet.

He ends up deflecting with, "What? I can't just be happy to be home?" and a flash of his dimples. The coffee mug joins the other used items in the dishwasher and he throws in one of the detergent tablets when he realizes there's no way he can cram anything else in there until the next load.

"JT," is all his mother says. If she became a government interrogator, they'd never need to worry about torture again; all she'd have to do is use 'the tone' and all international secrets would belong to America.

"H- He's just a friend." It seems like it ought to be more monumental than it is; admitting to his mother that it's a guy in the memory that keeps making him giddy over coffee cups and empty toothpaste tubes and stupid shit like that. This is him coming out, officially, and yet somehow calling Jensen a 'friend' feels like the much more important part of that sentence.

To the credit of his mother's everlasting awesomeness - and, also, probably Jared's complete lack of subtlety in his high school years - she doesn't even flinch. "A good friend?" she asks, a knowing look in her eyes.

"He's... well, it's kind of complicated," he says, fiddling with the tag on the inside of his new shirt - he'd taken it right out of the gift box and slipped it on this morning. His mother hums her understanding, pulling open a drawer to take out a pair of scissors and deftly clip the tag out. She doesn't push for any more, but she doesn't make a move to change the topic either; her way of saying she'll listen if Jared wants to talk about it, like he's been both bursting to and too afraid to do ever since it happened.

"We don't get along, really. Or, I don't know, maybe we do but it's like…" he stumbles, trying to figure out the best way to explain 'I casually rubbed off with a guy I've been fighting like cats and dogs with for months and now neither of us is talking about it but we kind of don't seem to want to kill each other anymore because of it' to his mother, "Things were weird with us, like, the whole semester and then right before I left this… thing happened and everything was just better for a while... like we're really friends now maybe. Or not. Or more. Or, I don't know. Complicated."

He sighs and sags against the counter, feeling about a thousand pounds lighter. The trouble with having wonderful, understanding people like Misha and Sandy around to talk to is that, once you try to actively not talk about something, you realize how much work it really is to keep things bottled up.

"But you're happy?" his mother asks gently, her hand coming up to cup his elbow reassuringly, "You seem happy."

He hadn't thought any differently, because he certainly hadn't noticed not being happy before, but somehow it still shocks him how naturally "I am," falls from his lips.

"Then I'm happy for you, babydoll." She gives him a pat on the arm and he leans down and pulls her into a grateful hug. He knows how much differently this could have gone, how many people could have never had this moment, and he's more thankful than he ever has been before for his family.

"Well," his mother smiles up at him finally, casting a weary look in the direction of the banging and cursing from the front stairwell, "I don't know exactly what happened - nor do I want to, you will always be my baby - but I can tell you this. After years of living with your father, I've learned there is one absolute truth about relationships; the more you care about someone, the more you want to kill them." She rolls her eyes and lets out a puts upon sigh as she goes out to supervise whatever kind of demolition his dad and brother are doing with Meg's new furniture.

It’s probably the best Christmas Jared’s ever had.

***

Jensen runs his hands through his wet hair, admiring the way it sticks up into spikes in the slowly unfogging mirror and plays with the idea of putting some gel in it to maintain the effect. He hasn't come to a decision yet when Jared walks into the bathroom, eyes scrunched shut on a yawn that makes him bang his bare shoulder into the doorway.

He's wearing a loose pair of pajama pants with little duckies on them which are either new or were kept in hiding during what Jensen now mentally refers to as their 'bitch period'. He's totally going to give Jared shit about them, just as soon as his brain stops overlaying the sight of Jared's naked chest with the memory of it covered in bite marks and come.

They've been getting along really well since the semester started; not, 'let's have a slumber party' friendly - although there's a fantasy that's not going away - but still pleasant and amiable. It's a double edged sword, because on the one hand, life is a lot easier when they're not at war, but it also means that all of that friendly charm that Jared just exudes - which Jensen had been deftly avoiding up until now by displaying no redeeming personal qualities whatsoever - has been pointed firmly his direction, and it does nothing at all to help him suppress the urge to rub up against Jared's body like a cat in heat every time the kid walks into a room.

They haven't discussed what happened - they'd said they didn't need to talk about it, after all - with each other or anyone else as far as Jensen can tell. It certainly doesn't seem like Jared's told anybody from the way they all keep pestering Jensen about it, and somehow that makes him happy in ways that have nothing to do with avoiding proving all of his friends right.

And if, maybe, Jensen's been wearing his jeans a little tighter, or, say, leaving the bathroom door open when he's standing around in nothing but a towel and knows Jared has to get up for class soon... well, maybe he's a little curious to see if the kid's just as hungry for a second taste as he is.

Jared definitely freezes up for a second when he opens his eyes and sees Jensen standing there, his mouth falling open just slightly as his gaze makes a quick circuit of Jensen's body. Oh yeah, the kid's totally into it.

"Um, sorry. I was just gonna..." Jared holds up a blue toothbrush lamely, flicking his bangs out of his face with a quick toss of the head.

"Be my guest." He makes room for Jared at the sink, deciding 'yes' on the gel - and not so he has an excuse to hang out in the bathroom a little while longer - while Jared gets foamy-mouthed as he brushes his teeth. It should not be as cute as Jensen finds it. Jared spits loudly into the sink and Jensen just can't hold back his teasing, "Sexy."

Jared grins, wiping the remaining flecks of white around his mouth with the back of his hand. "Oh, you know it. I'm all man, baby," he grins, and Jensen's stomach does not go fluttery over the casual way he said 'baby' because it was a freakin' joke and Jensen's not actually that desperate to get at the kid again. Nope, totally not. Fortunately, Jared saves him from accidentally following that up with some kind of pathetic 'I know you are' come on by asking, "That's new, right?"

Jared's pointing at Jensen's hips where the sinuous black tendrils of his new tattoo peak out above his towel. He's been considering walking around shirtless just to try and draw Jared's attention to it - not that he cares whether Jared approves or not - but it's still January, so that hasn't really been a viable option.

"Yeah," he nods, leaning back against the counter in a way that he hopes says 'come look closer' without shouting 'please put your face near my crotch'; it's a delicate balance. "Got it over break, what do you think?" Pulling the towel down another couple of inches is absolutely necessary to give Jared a proper look at the arrowing tribal spanning his hips, and if it happens to show off the cut of muscle above his thigh and just a hint of the trimmed dark hair at the base of his cock, so be it.

Jared's hand creeps a little closer like he's inexorably drawn to touch it, but stops himself an inch shy and asks, "Can I?"

Jensen tactfully refrains from screaming 'please, yes, anything' and just nods because his voice is probably not to be trusted at the moment.

True to form, his treacherous voice box lets out a little whimper, but that seems reasonably excusable considering the way Jared just folded to his knees right in fucking front of Jensen like an engraved invitation. At least he manages to keep from rolling his head back and moaning as Jared traces the lines of the tattoo with a barely-there brush of fingertips, so, you know, small victories. He keeps himself busy trying to think of really unarousing things like open wounds and his Great Aunt Edna in lingerie to keep from getting too obviously hard with nothing but a strip of terrycloth to hide behind.

"Did it hurt?" Jared inquires, looking up at Jensen with innocent hazel eyes. His breath stirs the soft hairs trailing down from Jensen’s navel and just fuck it, Jensen's hard, end of story.

"N-" he coughs to clear his throat when what comes out sounds more like a squeak than a word, "Not bad. It kinda gets the endorphins going, you know," and welcome to this episode of Things Jensen Shouldn't Be Thinking When Jared’s Kneeling In Front of Him, "so you don't really notice the pain so much. Kinda feels good, actually." He sounds a little breathless, but he's also managing to not grab Jared's head and grind himself off on the strong cut of his cheekbone, which ought to qualify him for some really impressive award for restraint. Or possibly sainthood.

There's a laugh in Jared's voice when he says, "Got a little ink kink, Jen?" sliding just one fingertip into the nest of hair below the tattoo.

"Bite me," the retort pops right off of his lips without a thought, because he's basically lost all capacity to think anyway. He sees Jared's lip twitch, sees him go automatically to follow through and actually bite at the tender flesh in front of his face, sees him realize what he was about to do and pull back instead and all Jensen wants to do is shout 'do it'.

Instead, he gets a deathgrip on the countertop as Jared stands up, steps as far back as the narrow bathroom will allow, because if Jared wanted this, he'd have gone for it; the way Jensen's tenting his towel is not exactly subtle. This is the moment where he should let it go and make peace with the fact that it was a one time thing. What happens instead is his mouth opens up - that whole not able to think thing still hasn't gone away - and says, "You should get one."

Jared's blushing and his irises have thinned out to little strips around his wide pupils, but he shrugs it off with a grin, "Nah. I have a 'needle repeatedly puncturing my skin' allergy."

It's a joke, a cue for Jensen to seriously shut the fuck up and _let this go_ and his mouth is apparently just not getting these memos. "You could get pierced instead. Faster, less pain." Jared's mouth opens and closes but he doesn't say anything. Then again, he doesn't add any more space to the foot or so separating them and Jensen knows without question in that moment that he's going to go for it.

He steps forward, closing in until they're pressed together, Jared's back to the wall, his skin sizzling hot against Jensen's, and - thank you lord - his stiff cock riding along the ridge of Jensen's hip through the soft layer of his pajamas. The younger man hisses, flattening his hands against the wall even as one of Jensen's slips up to pluck at his rosy nipple. "Could get this done," Jensen says, and Jesus, is that his voice? When did it get so low? "Hear it makes them real sensitive. Could probably make you come just by playing with it." He twists the peaked flesh between his fingers hard enough to make Jared's mouth fall open on a gasp and it takes less than a second to have his tongue dipping inside, teasing at Jared's own.

Just like that, Jared's hands are on him, tearing at the towel until it hits the ground at his feet. Then it's - fuck yes! - strong fingers pulling him in even closer, gripping his ass like they were made to fit there. Jared's kiss is possessive, demanding, as though he's branding his name inside Jensen's mouth with every red-hot swipe of his tongue. Jensen's pretty sure his bones have liquefied.

His fingers tear at the ties on Jared's pants until they come undone and he can shuck them down to Jared's knees. For a whole three seconds he manages to break off kissing to look down at Jared's cock grinding blissfully against his own. He knew it'd be pretty, just fucking knew it; long and just thick enough, flushed dark and a little bit slick at the head. The Jared's lips swoop down to pull him back into a heavy, panting kiss that only last a moment before Jensen reaches down to cup Jared heavy sac. The younger man's head thunks back against the wall, a long groan of Jensen's name ripped right up from his flittering stomach muscles, and it sounds so pretty that Jensen just rolls Jared's balls in his hand for a minute to see what other sounds he can drag out.

"Not used to being touched, Jay?" he coos teasingly against Jared's throat, alternating nips and licks with the soft brush of his lips. It's pretty obvious the kid's got very limited experience with anything but his own hands and it makes the temperature in Jensen's body skyrocket with the need to teach Jared everything, open up filthy new worlds for him.

Jared keens when Jensen knuckles at the stretch of muscles just behind Jared's sac, his dick jumping in time with every move. Jensen ruts against him like a horny teenager, switching up the angle just enough to sneak on finger even further back to rub over the tight furl of his hole.

Jared's hand slams loudly into the towel bar, making Jensen jump in the millisecond before that other big hand is digging hard into the muscle of his ass, lifting him until he's just barely balanced on his tip-toes. Jared bucks against him viciously, sliding Jensen up and down against his dick as the space between them goes slick and the little room fills with the heavy musk of orgasm.

Jared's bruising fingers finally relent, letting Jensen lower down onto the flats of his feet and the idea that the kid could just manhandle him like that, had basically lifted Jensen's whole body off the fucking ground with one arm is so fucking hot he's shaking. He jerks Jared's hand away from where's it's hanging loosely from the towel bar, climax making the kid relaxed and pliant as he wraps those long fingers around his dick, lacing them with his own to control the speed and pressure, the drag smoothed by Jared's come. A handful of tugs later and Jensen's just adding to the mess, too caught up to experience anything beyond the slick, tight grip of Jared's hand on his twitching cock.

They slip a few inches down the wall, Jensen too out of it for even a token attempt at supporting his own weight. But Jared seems to be at least partially back in the land of the living, backing Jensen up until he's sitting on the bathroom counter, Jared leaning against him, foreheads pressed together.

"So, you know how we get along better when we're coming all over each other?" Jared says lazily, a fuzzy sort of smile on his face.

"Mmm," Jensen nods, sounding just as doped up as Jared, even to his own ears.

"Well, maybe we just shouldn't stop doing that. Like, possibly ever."

Jensen brain-mouth filter is currently off-line, so, "Awesome plan," comes out of his mouth at the same time as he thinks it.

"Like, friends with benefits, or whatever," Jared tries for a shrug, but the high-as-a-kite look on his face detracts a little from the ease of it.

"I'm good with that," Jensen says, pulling Jared in those last few inches for another set of drugging kisses. The fluid on their groins is cooling into a gloppy mess, but Jared still feels good against him, so he can't bring himself to mind much.

***

The back of Jared's head smacks into the brick wall; black and white explosions behind his eyelids and enough searing, electric sex running along his nerves to make the Vegas strip jealous. God, he loves coming for Jensen; totally worth the occasional bruise when he can't control the way his head snaps back - and one of these days, he's really going to bitch about always being the one shoved up against the wall... just as soon as it stops being so damn hot.

Jensen's breath is wet heat against his neck, panting and rabid as he grinds himself up against Jared's hip, his hand down between them to smear the head his rigid cock with the mess of Jared's come. Jared smoothes his hand through the silky, short strands of Jensen's hair, pulling him in even closer. The glint of metal catches in the light of the storage room's bare bulb and Jensen's ear is right there so he can't _not_ turn his head that extra little bit and tease the stud there with his tongue. Jensen shudders instantly, body snapped taut, his gutteral moans muffled against Jared's skin - it's so much fun knowing his triggers.

Jensen's not exactly a cuddler, not that they ever really have time for it anyway, but moments like these, When Jen’s still out of it, Jared can get away with being a little too touchy so he buries his nose in the smaller man's hair, concentrating on the smell of him over the dulling aroma of the coffee beans stacked in boxes all around them. Eventually though, Jensen comes back down, pulling away slowly with a line of soft kisses along Jared's collar bone.

While Jared's busy doing up his pants and rummaging around among the boxes, to try and figure out where the hell his shirt went and when he’s heart rate is going to finally slow down, Jensen tears open a box full of napkins. He cleans up his hands and what little bit got on his belly efficiently before letting his rucked up uniform t-shirt fall over the hard expanse of his abs and hands over a wad of clean napkins for Jared to use. They've gotten better at not being messy, actually - can't afford a lot of clean up time when they're stealing moments - so it doesn't take much to get back to looking presentable. Still, he’d kill for a mirror.

In lieu of that, he lets Jensen finger-comb his shaggy hair back into something that doesn't announce 'hand jobs in the back room' to the customers, or especially, to Danneel. And there's no way he can have Jensen that close, touching him, gaze so intently focused on him without sneaking in a couple more quick kisses. Of course, those inevitably turn into several not-so-quick kisses, by which point Jensen's going to have to fix Jared's hair again because the guy can't seem to resist getting his fingers all wound up in it when they make out.

Reluctantly, Jared makes himself stop sucking on Jensen's tongue - the last thing they need is for Danneel to come looking for them - and steps back, dick stirring again at the darkness under Jensen's heavy eyelids, his kiss-swollen mouth. He reaches out and thumbs away the sheen of saliva on Jensen's puffy lower lip, just because he can. For a second, Jensen catches the pad of the digit in his teeth, scraping a soft promise into the skin and if they don't get out of here right now, Jared's going for round two and to hell with whoever might find them.

Just barely, he manages to restrain himself and draw Jensen toward the door instead - without even tripping over anything. He's feeling reasonably impressed with himself.

Jensen's hand catches his on the door to the store room, effectively halting him with a warm pressure that seems to seep right into his skin. Jared feels his face go hot, his dick swelling to half hard at the simple touch; it never fails to amaze him how easily Jensen gets to him. Jensen looks serious though, not like he's about to push Jared down onto that box of coffee filters and swallow down is cock, so he tries to contain himself.

Jensen opens his mouth ineffectually a couple of times before finally breaking off to stare at his shoes. It’s awkward - not exactly like they talk a lot, at least not like this; most of their conversations are held when someone else is in the room, thus preventing them from pawing at each other like wild animals.

"Have you... ever?" Jen fumbles, free hand moving automatically to scrub at the back of his neck. The pink flush darkening his freckles doesn't have nearly as much sex in it as a minute ago.

It's hard to think with Jensen's hand pressing warm against his own, their bodies so close together, Jensen looking so goddamn adorable the way he worries his lip between his teeth. At last Jared manages to force the meaning of those words to the soupy mess of lust and satisfaction clouding his mind. Jensen's asking… Oh!

"No," Jared replies quietly, a strange bout of nerves kicking up. That's not going to be a deal breaker is it? Like just about everything else about this, it’s not something they’ve discussed, but he knows that Jensen doesn't exactly do relationships. Maybe he's worried about virgin baggage or something like that? Worried that Jared will make too much out of it? "I mean, I've done stuff, you know. Just, not that. It's not a big deal to me or anything."

Jensen's hand just tightens on his hand, eyes squeezed shut, but when he slowly lifts his lids, the green underneath has been nearly eaten away again by hungry black."You're killing me, Smalls," he huffs in a voice built of gravel and silk. Jared's knees give a warning wobble.

For a moment the air feels heavy with want, Jensen staring at him, flash of pink as he swipes his tongue across his lips. The space between them shortens, though Jared's not sure which one of them moves and he can barely hear over the throb of his heartbeat, nearly whimpering at the pain/pleasure rush as he cock fills out again.

Just as fast it snaps."C'mon," Jensen growls, tearing open the door with one last quick grab at Jared’s ass, "those books aint gonna sell themselves."

***

Jensen feels good, satisfied in this bone deep way that's like a couple of beers worth of buzz humming through him all the time. It's amazing what daily - multi-daily - orgasms will do for a guy's mood.

It's been almost a month since they started their little arrangement, and aside from an almost crippling inability to concentrate on anything else whenever Jared's around, things have never been better. Life in the dorm is much easier without all of the fighting, and, miracle of miracles, his friends seem to have given up on the idea of him and Jared getting together - heh, if only they knew. Admittedly that last part seems a little weirdly sudden, but, hey, as long as they aren't pestering him about it, he doesn't really care if it was the Loch Ness Monster who convinced everybody that he and Jared weren't made for each other.

He's jarred out of his gloating reverie by Jared heading for the bathroom. Their eyes catch for a split second and... oh yeah? Well then. Jensen resettles himself on Chris' couch, hoping that the halfway there bulge in his jeans from the very thought of dirtying Jared up in the bathroom of their friend's house isn't too obvious. The kid’s turned out to be a lot more willing and adventurous than he could have ever hoped for; a little bit thrill seeking, a tiny bit exhibitionist, it’s like the boy was made for him.

He'll have to stick it out another couple of minutes at least to keep anyone from getting suspicious, and naturally, it’s like time slows down just to torture him.

In one way, it's kind of a pain in the ass to hide all the time, grabbing a couple of minutes here and there between classes and work and everything else, always crammed into a closet or a bathroom or the back seat of his car. There's never enough time or privacy to strip Jared down the way he wants to and explore every inch of the responsive body and see what kind of noises he can earn himself with lips and fingers and tongue. And there is never, ever the chance to lay the kid out all pretty and perfect and open him up, finally get inside, finally take him so good and hard that Jared'll be begging for it every day afterward.

Well, so much for not popping a boner in front of half the people he knows. At least it doesn't seem like anybody has noticed - too caught up in Mike and Tom's epic Halo battle.

They're hanging out at Chris' place; Chris and his bandmate, Steve, winding down after an awesome set at a college bar across town, the rest of them getting worked up for the weekend - one Jensen's very much looking forward to since Misha will be busy with research for his thesis and Mike and Tom will be off doing whatever they do, leaving nothing but hours and hours for him and Jared to mess around. This weekend could finally be it; punching Jared's v-card.

With that rush of adrenaline roaring through him, Jensen sets his beer bottle on the floor next to the couch, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stands to try and distract from his rather obvious hard-on but no one's paying attention anyway.

And apparently Jensen wasn't paying very good attention either, because he missed the point when Chris got up and walked out of the room, but from the sound of the discussion he almost walks in on in the kitchen, it couldn't have been more than a minute ago.

"So you and Jenny?" Chris says, his back to Jensen so he can't tell what kind of expression he's shooting at Jared, but the kid looks nervous, caught in the short hallway between the kitchen and bathroom.

"It's not like that," Jared grins, but it's strained at the edges. He wonders when he learned to read Jared's expressions so well. And when that touch of worry in Jared’s voice started sparking his protective instincts.

"Mm-hmm." He can hear the smirk in Chris' voice, and sure enough, his friend leans against the counter in just the right spot to make sure that Jared would have to bowl him over to get past.

Jensen should stop this, should step in and make a joke and grab a beer from the fridge or something but... but he doesn't. Because that sound in Chris' voice isn't one he's used to and he can't decide what it is, if it's defensive or... sexual. Which is stupid, of course it's not; Chris isn't even into guys, and even if he were, he wouldn't try something with a guy he knows Jensen's with. Except Jensen's not exactly with Jared and nobody knows about that anyway. And Chris does have the kid cornered up all cozy which is making Jensen's stomach try to turn itself inside out. No this isn't happening, and damnit, he really wants to step in and say something but instead he's just rooted on the spot, watching whatever's going on, like a train wreck.

"Is this the part where you tell me that if I make him cry you'll break my neck?" Jared jokes, still sounding ill at ease, "Because seriously, it's not like that."

Chris laughs smoothly, deep and husky in a way that has Jensen's nails digging into the meat of his hands."No, kid," Chris' hand looks small on Jared's shoulder and Jensen can see the kid steal himself; wants to walk over there and knock that hand away and touch everything on Jared he can get to, mark him with his touch, "This is the part where I tell you that I've never seen Jen get stuck on anybody the way he has on you. So whether or not it's 'like that', it's 'like that'."

Oh. Well that's.

That's not really Chris' to tell, now is it? And it's not true anyway, he's been into a lot of people as much as he's into Jared. Like... Well, there have definitely been some, he's sure. He just can't remember right now because he's still riding the swell of... not jealousy. He's not jealous. Jared can hook up with anybody he wants to. Something leaden hits the pit of his stomach, but that's probably completely unrelated.

"It's also the part," Chris continues, even though it's still none of his goddamn business, "where I tell you that Jensen has that gene or whatever it is that makes him fuck up his life anytime it starts getting good, so watch yourself. If you know anything about him at all, then you know he's worth fighting for."

Something decidedly weird his going on in Jensen's gut, both warm and cold, hollow and yet somehow full and content. It's strange and he doesn't like it, it makes his face heat up, makes him want to squirm. From the look on Jared's face, he knows exactly the feeling Jensen means.

Chris claps Jared on the shoulder once and then easy as pie, turns to the fridge and gets himself out a beer, popping the cap with his ring. He takes a long pull, watching Jared, who seems to be having the same 'not moving' problem that Jensen is. The kid’s just staring confusedly at a spot in the air in front of him, brow furrowed like he's deep in thought.

Chris turns on his heel suddenly, smiling over his shoulder at Jared. "And, for the record," he says cheerfully, "if you hurt him, I own a gun and a truck and there's an awful lot of open land in Texas, alright? Alright."

Jared startles, eyes locked on Chris as he walks out of the room, landing on where Jensen’s still stuck there just outside the doorway as Chris brushes past. There's no way Jared can hear it when Chris whispers "Don't fuck it up, Jenny," when their shoulders touch, but it feels like the hazel eyes on Jensen intensify anyway.

For a single second, it's just the two of them, looking at each other across the seemingly endless desert of the kitchen between them.

 _Don't fuck it up_.

Jensen manages not to run when he turns and follows Chris back into the living room.


	5. Chapter 5

If you could get a degree in not talking about things, Jared would be able to graduate in a couple of months. Not that it's exactly a shock, what with the way that they don't really talk about any of the stuff they do together, but still, they're not talking about what happened. They're not talking about what Chris said to Jared, or how Jensen overheard it, or how Jared knows that Jensen overheard it, or how Jensen turned tail and ran rather than discuss it like grownups and promptly began pretending that nothing happened at all. Jared's getting dizzy just trying to keep up.

The thing is, he can't figure out if Jensen's freaking out because he thinks Jared is, or if he's freaking out all on his own - because this level of awkward from Jensen is a pretty clear freak out any way you slice it. Jared's been trying to be normal about the whole thing, because he's honestly not freaking out. Not much anyway.

It's not like he's sitting around pining because he and Jensen haven't defined their relationship or they don't hold hands or whatever. Not that he would mind dating Jensen - he's hot and funny and when they're not making each other miserable, they mesh in this kind of awesome way Jared's never really felt before - but he knew what he was getting into when they started this, and he's never expected anything more. He just can't seem to find a good way to say that to Jensen without it seeming like he's spent hours sitting in his room over thinking the situation and doodling little hearts around Jensen’s name. …Which he hasn’t. Not the hearts thing anyway.

So, as of now, his plan is to just take Jensen’s lead and pretend like that moment with Chris never happened, hoping that they can get back into that nice sex-filled groove they had going.

He waits five minutes after Misha leaves for the library - enough time to make sure Mish didn't forget something and double back for it - and then knocks on Jensen's door.

Jensen's "yeah," is slightly muffled, but he takes it as a cue and enters, shutting the door behind him just in case. His roommate is laid out on his bed on his stomach, nothing on but an old pair of basketball shorts. He's flipping through a set of index cards with his tiny chicken scratch scrawl all over them and wearing his glasses, which Jared almost never gets to see and may be developing a mild fetish for if the way his dick twitches is anything to go by.

"Hey," Jensen says easily. It's not the way he usually talks when they're alone - when he bothers to talk at all beyond 'baby' and 'fuck yes' and 'so hot' - it's casual, like they're actually just friends, like he hadn't practically climbed Jared like a tree earlier this week when he told him how they’d have the dorm all to themselves today.

"Hey," Jared replies, fingers swiping through his hair just to have something to do with his hands; Jensen typically keeps Jared’s hands nicely occupied all on his own. "You, um, ya busy?" It sounds awkward as hell, like he's all of about twelve and desperate for Jensen's attention. And, ok, maybe he is, just a little.

Jensen shrugs and turns onto his side, laying the index cards face down on the navy blue sheets. "You know, senior capstone shit. Gotta get working on it sometime, right?"

"Yeah," Jared says, even though, no, he doesn't know at all, but what else is he gonna say? Oh God this is painful. One of them needs to say something. Hell, they talk all the time when other people are around; they have plenty in common, it should not be so fucking impossible to think of something to say. "Is it like a test, or a paper, or what?"

Honestly, he doesn't really know much about Jensen's physical therapy major - he always kind of sucked at sciences, and the very idea of having to dissect a cat for Bio 101 made his stomach turn, but Jensen always seems to be really passionate about it – the science, not the cat dismemberment - so it's probably a good way to get him talking, since there’s apparently going to be a lot less hot-hot making out - and maybe more - than he’d hoped for.

Sure enough, a spark lights in Jensen's eyes and he turns over all the way to sit up, making room at the end of the bed for Jared to settle himself uncomfortably.

"A little of both, you know; they gotta make sure I've got all this circulatory system crap down before grad school," he grins; Jensen had spent weeks complaining about having to draw the circulatory system from memory.

There's no way for Jared to not grin right back at the genuineness of Jensen's smile, the way it makes his eyes crinkle under the frameless lenses and his whole face light up. He does at least stifle the urge to lean forward and lick across the smattering of freckles on Jensen's cheek, so that's something.

"Have you gotten in your acceptance letters yet?" Jared only has to clear his throat a little for it to come out sounding normal.

"Yeah a couple," Jensen enthuses, opening the drawer on his bedside table - the one where Jared knows he keeps lube and condoms even though they haven't actually worked up to needing more than lube yet - and pulls out a couple of sheets of folded paper, "Got one from Baylor, U Penn, some place in Denver that I swear I did not apply to," he shoots Jared an amused 'what the fuck' look as he ticks through the pages with his fingers. His face falls suddenly, blinking a little too hard as his gaze flicks between the last page in his hands and Jared. "And, um, here, of course." The grin this time looks forced and Jared just wants to rewind everything thirty seconds and fix whatever the hell just went wrong.

Jensen shoves the papers back in his drawer and spends a long time looking at the geography of his room, noticeably avoiding Jared.

This is goddamn fucking ridiculous, they just need to talk about it and get it all out in the open. He gets as far as "Listen-" before Jensen jumps in.

"You're overdressed, you know." It's a purr, pure sex, and if Jared didn't know what Jensen sounds like when he's actually horny and wanting, maybe he'd have fallen for it. Instead it sounds fake, just as much as the heavy lidded stare Jensen's giving him and it makes him just want to walk out and forget about the whole damn deal. He doesn't though, because he's eighteen and his dick doesn't really care if it's a lie and, well, maybe fake is still better than nothing at all.

He doesn't miss the way Jensen's breath catches as he peels off his shirt, and that one was all real; the way Jensen's face locks down a second too late says so. His teeth grind together as he drops his pants too - no underwear because he'd been planning on this for days before everything went to pot - trying to hold back the urge to shout or throw something, do anything just to make Jensen react honestly.

Jensen’s hard when Jared straddles his hips, grinds his own length against the silky fabric of Jensen's shorts. Green eyes flutter and broad hands move like they have a mind of their own up Jared's thighs. "Mmm, baby," Jensen groans, and that's real too, which makes the heat fisting Jared's lungs slink downward to pool mellow in his belly.

He slides his fingers up the sides of Jensen’s face, lifting away his glasses and settling them safely on the table. Then their faces are so close, a couple of hours of foreplay in the way their breath mingles together, and Jared couldn’t stop himself from kissing Jensen if his life depended on it.

Jensen's lips are as soft and giving as ever, molding to him, opening for him to lick his way inside. There's a long minute where it's nothing but Jared grinding down blissfully and Jensen trying to suck the tastebuds right off of his tongue, then one of those low, growly sounds Jensen always makes builds - Jared can feel it vibrating in the strong chest under his palms - and about halfway out chokes of. Jensen body goes still beneath him, almost painfully rigid and not in any of the fun ways. Jared stops instantly, looks down into Jensen's too-close eyes and for a second sees panic.

It's enough that he starts to get up, afraid something's wrong, but instead, Jensen just rolls them - no mean feat considering Jared barely fits on the bed all by himself - until he's on top and takes control.

He pushes the shorts halfway down his thighs, enough that when he lays back down and rolls his hips their cocks brush together in a way that makes Jared arch and moan. It's still all wrong, still not them because Jensen won't look at him, won't kiss him again; just buries his head against Jared's neck and chokes back all of the little noises that always make Jared's pulse trip. His hands don't move on Jared's body, fastened securely at the waist and Jared can't bring himself to move his either from where they're clamped around Jensen's shoulders, like touching anything more would be too personal, despite the constant, rough friction of their trapped cocks.

It's the least intimate thing Jared's ever done with someone; less than with the couple of guys in high school he'd made out with in locked classrooms, having to promise he'd never tell anyone because they were so scared shitless of being outted, less than the time he'd gotten a handjob from the captain of their opposing high school's soccer team behind the gymnasium after the game - he didn’t know the guy’s first name and doubted he knew Jared's either - less than the one time he'd groped Lindsey Harris at a late night practice for _Macbeth_ , trying to figure out why the soft give of the breasts most of the guys in school were obsessed over couldn't even get him past half hard. It's so fucking miserable that even coming sticky and hot and helpless between their bodies is nothing but a relief that it's over.

Jensen follows him seconds later with something that sounds like a bitten off sob and definitely isn't Jared's name; he hadn't realized he'd miss the sound of it so much. He lays there under the limp, stifling weight of Jensen's body for a long time, making shapes out of the stains on the ceiling and trying to understand why the hell this feels like dying.

***

Jensen wonders what the odds are of the planet opening up and swallowing him whole, because he'd really appreciate that right about now.

He rolls off of Jared, scooting as far away as he possibly can, which on his tiny bed, is about an inch and doesn’t think about how good it would feel to close that gap again and fall asleep with Jared’s body pressing against him now that there’s finally enough time for it.

What the fuck is wrong with him? He's done shit like this before, screwed around with someone even when he wasn't really feeling it; all he's ever had to do was close his eyes and shut down his brain and just feel. But he couldn't get there with Jared; no matter how many times he tried listing the muscle groups in his mind, he still couldn't shut out the way Jared's body slotted against him, the way he smelled, the tang of his sweat on Jensen's lips, the way it was so, insurmountably _Jared_ and not anyone else - how much he didn't want it to be anyone else.

His skin feels tight and clammy and he has to stupid need to go scrub himself down in the shower like he just did something awful. Why the hell doesn't anything make sense anymore?

He should have just fucked him, knows he'd feel better if he did. Get in and get over it, just like Chris said months ago.

Just like Chris fucking said.

He's pretty sure he hates Chris right now; it's all his fucking fault Jensen's screwed up like this, laying around worrying about Jared, not letting himself fuck the kid because some huge girly part of him wants it to be 'special' for the stupid giant. Wants Jared to find some guy who deserves him and go get Canadian married and adopt a bunch of kids and those damn dogs Jared's always going on about and be fucking perfect and everything that Jared should have and Jensen will never be because he can't even bring himself to be Jared's fucking boyfriend.

"I guess I should let you get back to studying," Jared says tightly, and Jensen can't stand to look at his face and see whatever awful thing he knows is bound to be there.

He manages to whisper, "Ok," into his pillow around the swollen knot of his throat. There's the rustle of cloth as Jared gathers up his clothes, doesn't even bother to put them on, just grabs them and walks out. Jensen thinks the kid may have lingered at the door, may have turned around and looked at him, but he can't take his eyes off the pattern of the weave of his sheets because he's not sure what will happen if he does.

The click of the door shutting quietly breaks something inside of him.

***

Jared stares at the sheet of paper in front of him like if he looks hard enough it will admit that what’s written on it is a cruel lie. But it’s right there in cheap black ink, the whole week’s grid mapped out and not one time on it do he and Jensen share a shift. It doesn’t make any sense. Sure things have kind of sucked for the last couple of days – and not at all the kind of sucking he’s been wanting to do – and sure, Jensen’s been sneaking around and essentially steering clear of him, but this is whole other level. This isn’t just casually being busy when Jared asks if he wants to do something, or spending way too much time at the library; this is intentionally, actively trying not to see him at all. This is taking special measure and getting other people involved and…

Other people. Danneel.

Jared comes really close to sending some short goth guy sprawling in the middle of the non-fiction section, barely pulls himself out of the run long enough to apologize for slamming into him before he’s off again, slipping behind the ‘employees only’ door.

"Hey," Jared pokes his head into the door of the little room in the back that Danneel calls her 'office' and does not in any way flash back to how that stilted conversation in Jensen's room days go started the exact same way.

Danneel's hair catches the artificial light as her head pops up from whatever paperwork she's scribbling at, smiling brightly despite the tinge on something else behind her eyes. "Hey, Jared, what's up?"

He takes a couple of steps further into the room, letting the door shut behind him. There's not another chair so he's stuck shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot, scuffing at the flecked tiles.

"I was looking at the schedule, and I was just kind of hoping I could change some of my days around," he shrugs, trying to make it seem casual even though the look in Danneel's eyes says she knows what he means.

"I don't know, hon," she flips through some of her papers, never long enough to actually be reading anything, "Things are kind of tight." So that's it then; not some awful coincidence – Jensen really had asked to have different shifts than him. Not that he'd hoped for any better, but it's still a shot to the gut to see it written plain as day on his friend’s face.

"He's avoiding me," Jared's not really sure why he says it - obviously Danneel knows exactly what Jensen's doing - but it feels better to have it out anyway, even if the idea that Danneel's siding with Jensen on this makes him want to grind his teeth into powder.

"What happened?" she asks softly, eyes wide and honest and, Jesus, Jared just can't handle this right now.

"I don't even know," he growls in frustration, hand already on the door. He shakes off the memory of Jensen's hand over his on the store room doorknob just the way he has all of the others that seem to bombard him everywhere he goes. "Just, I'm not letting him off that easy, ok? Tell him that, God knows he won't listen to me say it."

Danneel's gentle "Ok," echos in his ears all the way down the hall.

***

Jensen's soaked, all but shivering even though it's supposed to be motherfucking spring, water dripping from his hair and off of his ears. His shoes squish and he kicks them off as soon as he steps into the dorm room, toeing his socks off as well.

Jared's door is open, the light off and it annoys him that that's the first thing he notices; annoys him even more that he knows that Jared should be back from class now, and that he worries whether Jared has an umbrella before he can stop himself.

He chucks his book bag in his room and goes into the kitchen to start up a pot of coffee, digging into the back of the cabinet for his secret stash since none of his roommates truly appreciates the pleasure of a dark roast. He strips out of his wet clothes while it brews and changes into a ratty pair of sweats - no way is he going back out in that shit again today, he's got enough studying to do anyway. The scent of coffee is just beginning to perk him up - and where the hell does Mike keep hiding the sugar - when the front door screeches open.

Misha slops in first with Jared hot on his heels, both of them as dripping and soaked to the skin as Jensen was just minutes ago. Misha flicks the water off of his hands disdainfully, scowling at the wet sleeves clinging to his arms. Jared leans over and shakes his head like a dog sending water droplets splashing all over the place and pelting Misha all over again. The older man glares at him, which just makes Jared grin and laugh freely. It sounds easy and joyous and makes Jensen ache.

It takes them both a minute to realize he's standing there in the kitchen, but once they do, for a second it's all cold, cement-thick tension. And just like that Jared breaks it, leans down and swoops his hair back like a cartoon maestro and grins right at Jensen like he's not standing here burning alive from the inside out just looking at the kid.

When Daneel had told him that Jared, quote, 'wasn't letting him off that easy', Jensen had had steeled himself for confrontations, arguments, hell, he'd even had this weird little… well, not fantasy, not like he wanted it to actually happen, but this _idea_ of Jared waiting outside his classes, following him around like a puppy, lovelorn and lost without Jensen. He'd been completely unprepared for this, the relentless niceness Jared had been practically flogging him with for weeks; like they hadn't spent weeks screwing around every chance they got, like it hadn't been awkward as ass when the screwing around just stopped, like there wasn't this big giant thing between them just hanging there. Like it's not bothering him at all.

Both of his roommates get out of their wet shoes, Misha retreating to the bathroom for towels, one of which he flings at Jared's head. Jared laughs again and scrubs his shaggy hair with the towel while Misha goes to change. Jensen finally gets around to pouring himself that cup of coffee, deliberately ignoring the way Jared strips out of his t-shirt right there in the middle of the living room, the bunch of his wet muscles as he stretches the towel across his shoulders. That's how he misses it until he's got a mouthful of too-hot coffee, the metallic glint on Jared's chest. On his nipple. A ring.

JesusfuckingChrist, he got his nipple pierced.

Jensen's heard of being blindingly hard before, but he never thought it was actually possible. For a moment there he swears the whole world blanks out, nothing but the insistent, nearly explosive throb of his cock filling out faster than he can blink. That time at the start of the semester flashes into his mind; him and Jared and the bathroom, the tattoo and the stupid piercing comment he'd made, how he'd repeated it plenty of times after, how much he had wanted the kid to actually do it so Jensen really could take him apart with nothing but a thin loop of metal.

At some point in there, he apparently snorted coffee out of his nose, which now that he's aware of it, pretty much sucks out loud. His sinuses are burning and he's got coffee dripping down his face and Jared’s looking down at him with brutally sincere concern, his hand scalding through Jensen's shirt as his pats him on the back.

And that fucking ring winking at him as Jared's chest rises and falls with breath. His mouth floods with the need to suck on it and tease it with his tongue.

Misha’s suddenly there, holding a towel in front of Jensen’s face, breaking whatever spell Jared's eyes had cast on him - stupid fucking pretty eyes - so he can wipe himself down, letting the towel hang limply in front of the single most painful erection of his life. Blue eyes are glaring at him, Misha's mouth set in stern disapproval and the best he can do is duck his head and makes for his room, leaving the coffee with Jared and that motherfucking nipple ring in the kitchen. He doesn't remember running away this much before Jared came into his life.

There’s a blessed ten seconds of quiet before his door shoves open again and Jensen whirls, heart in his throat, ready to just fucking have it out since Jared obviously plans on taunting him into submission. Except it’s not Jared slamming the door shut behind him.

Misha gives him a death glare – the kind he usually reserves for bigots and people who deny the superiority of Radiohead –and it feels like Jensen’s skin is literally trying to crawl off of his bones.

“Problem?” Jensen asks, and if it comes out sound more like a challenge, then so be it.

Misha slowly closes his eyes and takes a breath so deep Jensen’s lungs hurt in sympathy as he releases it. When he speaks his voice in low and level; far too much cold rationality in those piercing eyes for Jensen’s taste.

“How stupid do you think we are?” Misha says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Correction, Mike and Chris can be fucking idiots, but how stupid do you think that _I_ am?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Ok, he’s being a tool, he knows it, but he’s had all this shit swirling around in him for goddamn days and he feels like he’s going to explode at how fucking normal everybody’s acting about it. He wants to tear something to pieces, to fight and scrap and claw until this feeling stops trying to eat him alive.

“Do you really think that there’s any chance that I didn’t know what was going on between you and Jared? You’re the two least subtle people on the planet.” There’s a snap to the words now, but the volume stays low, Misha keeping his head as always. He is very subtly stepping forward however, forcing Jensen to slowly back away.

“First you can’t stand each other, because you like each other, which for normal people would sound insane, but somehow makes sense in the crazy-world the two of you live in. Then, miraculously, you start getting along. You won’t tell anyone why but it happens right after I told you to apologize to Jared for being a jealous bitch. No!” Misha snarls when Jensen tries to jump in – he was not being a jealous bitch! – and shoves two fingers against Jensen’s sternum, throwing off his balance just enough that he plops onto the bed with a bounce.

“All of a sudden everything’s hugs and puppies with you guys; you hang out together, you mysteriously disappear and come back minutes later flushed and mussed, you can hardly look at each other without grinning, let alone all of the touching you seem to assume none of us notice. And then, just as suddenly it’s all fucked up and you’re barely functioning as a human being while Jared’s probably going to spontaneously combust from all of the forced enthusiasm. I could be blind deaf and stupid and still know what was going on between you two. Now do you want to fill me in on the details or should I go get some vodka and get Jared smashed enough to spill, because honestly, I turned that boy down once over you, I can’t guarantee I could control myself like that again while he’s drunk and handsy.”

It’s an empty threat. Probably. He’s like 99% sure Misha would never do it, but then again, Jared’s hot, and he does get gropey when he drinks and… Jensen’s stomach seems to have decided it wants to switch places with his kidneys and everything feels twisty and nauseating.

“It wasn’t supposed to mean anything,” is all he can get out, quiet and shockingly desperate sounding, even to his own ears.

“But it does,” Misha adds the unspoken thought. With a heavy sigh he sits down on the bed next to Jensen, a comforting hand on his knee. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“I- I… I’m gonna kick Chris’ ass.” He mumbles it into his hands, now cradling his own face. He’s just not equipped to deal with this shit. It’s like he was absent the day that everyone else alive learned how to handle feeling like this.

“Yeah,” Misha huffs a laugh, “that’ll make you stop being in love with Jared.”

“I’m not-“ Jensen starts automatically, but his mouth won’t even try to work through the rest of the words. Because he knows, has known deep down for a lot longer than he cares to think about. He’s in love with Jared, and he fucked it all up. His voice is shaking when he asks, “So, everybody knows?” because if he goes any farther with that last line of thought, he’s not entirely sure he can stop himself from crying like a little girl.

“Everyone who’s ever seen you two together knows,” Misha says blandly, “Have I mentioned the complete lack of subtle?”

“Does he know?” It’s the last thing he wants to ask; one way or another, once he knows the answer, he’ll have to do something about, have to make an actual decision about this and he’s been so carefully avoiding that all of this time.

“I think he’s about as oblivious as you are,” sighs Misha, “you make one hell of a pair.”

It feels like a long time before either of them says anything else and it finally occurs to Jensen that he never got around to turning on the lights and it’s getting pretty dark with the storm outside. He watches the rain trickle down the window pane in slow patterns, trying to remember what anything felt like before Jared walked in the front door that day so many months ago.

“He got pierced for me, fucking tease,” he says at last, not an ounce of heat behind it. Misha smiles sadly.

“I know. I was there.”

His chest aches, like his ribs are made of spun sugar, crackling with every breath. It’s so easy to picture Jared laid out in one of those chairs, shirtless and perfect, reaching out as the needle touches skin to grasp Misha’s hand, the wrong hand, when it should have been Jensen standing there next to him. Doing this stupid fucking thing all because Jensen thought it would be hot; because the kid really cared that much.

“You have to do something, you know,” his friend says gently, “Either commit to it or let him go, he doesn’t deserve to be stuck in the middle like this.”

“I’ll fuck it up again,” he comes out a whisper, so soft the shush of rain against the window almost drowns it out, but he feels the words quaking all the way down to his soul.

Misha takes another deep breath and lets it out, rests his head on Jensen’s shoulder. “Probably. But does that make it worth it not to try?”

Jensen would give just about anything to know the answer. 


	6. Chapter 6

The wet rubber of Jared's tennis shoes squeaks on the linoleum as he rounds the top of the stairs. A knock on the door to 6F has Sandy opening almost immediately, looking up at him with those sad, soft eyes that everybody seems to be wearing around him lately. Because he doesn't feel pathetic enough already.

"Are you sure it's ok for me to stay over?" he asks, stepping inside, setting his blue umbrella down in the corner by the door.

"Yeah," Sandy smiles, climbing back onto her bed, tossing aside the European History notes she must have been going over and tucks her feet underneath her, "Katie won't mind, assuming she even comes home. Molest you in your sleep, yes, but she definitely won't _mind_."

"Well, I guess you'll have to be my fierce protector then," he teases back, some of the tightness in his throat melting away with their easy banter.

Sandy bares her teeth and does her best impression of ferocious growl, which is about as intimidating as a newborn bunny. He can't keep himself from laughing and doesn't really feel like trying - it seems like too much of his laughter lately has been forced through gritted teeth.

His shoes squish as he toes them off, laying his socks out beside them on the floor in the vain hope that they'll dry by morning.

"I hear they've come out with these crazy, newfangled things called rainboots," she jokes, worming her way under the covers. It's barely 7:30, but he doesn't hesitate to slide under the covers beside her once he's shed his jeans, soaked all the way up to the knee.

He shrugs, cuddling up next to Sandy as she rearranges so her head is resting comfortably on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her back."Eh, my shoes were already wet."

"Alright," she sighs, laying one tiny arm across his chest, "don't blame me if you catch pnuemonia."

"Yeah, yeah," he rolls his eyes, but he's still smiling a bit, "You know that's not really the way germs work, right?"

"Psh," her hand waves dismissively at the underside of her absentee roommate's bunk, "You're just buying into the pharmaceutical companies’ propaganda."

"Oh God, now you sound like Misha!" Jared quickly remedies that by catching his long fingers on the spot just under her ribs, guaranteed to make Sandy writhe with helpless laughter every time.

She yelps and thrashes like a caught fish, kicking her little legs at him as she tries to escape until finally they're both breathless with laughter, lying in a limp, overheated pile under her covers. For a long while he just lays there, breathing into the sweet scented hair at the crown of her head and petting through the silky dark length of it.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Sandy asks softly, nuzzling her cheek against his chest. The thin silvery ring through his nipple shifts slightly with the motion, disconcertingly pleasant and at the same time sickening in its reminder of how sadly desperate he is.

"Nothing really," he replies, trying for non-chalant and failing miserably. "Just, I'm not sure how many more nights I can lie there, a paper thin wall away from a man that I hate who I can't wait to wake up and see."

She sighs, "English majors," but the fleeting glance she flicks up at him in understanding.

"He and Misha were having some big heart to heart when I left, and all I kept thinking was how I could go into my room and probably hear every word they said. I had to get out of there before I made myself nuts."

"Well, you're welcome here anytime," Sandy assures soothingly, "Even if your shirts do give my RA the wrong impression."

The comment takes Jared by surprise and he casts a look down at his own chest, for the first time noticing which one of Misha's shirts he'd grabbed on his way out - there's a giant cannabis leaf on it overlaid with a peace sign. His head rolls back on a chuckle - only Misha. Why couldn't Jared have fallen for him instead?

"Because love doesn't make sense," Sandy says wryly, and only then does he realize he'd said that last part out loud.

"It's not fair," Jared groans, completely ignoring the 'love' part because that's a whole other can of worms he really doesn't need to open right now, "I've got people like you and Misha and Daneel and any one of you would be a hundred times better than the douchebag I go for."

"Jensen's not that bad," she says, propping her chin up on his chest so they're looking each other in the eye. It's the first time it's actually been said out loud that it's Jensen they're talking about, even though it's been implied in his angsting for weeks. He should have known they weren't fooling anyone to start with.

"Yeah, he's a real prince," There's no point in disguising the bitterness in his voice, though he gives a shot at covering the way the words want to crackle with emotion.

"Look, Jay," Sandy's voice has a clipped quality he's learned is her 'I'm done putting up with your crap' voice, "Yeah, there are probably a whole lot of people it would be easier for you to be with, but you don't want them, and that's the point. The whole reason you and Jensen work together is because you're both too damn stubborn for your own good. You fought with him tooth and nail for a whole freaking semester over absolutely nothing, so why the hell are you letting him run the show now?"

Jared's brain seems to shut down completely, every last gear grinding to a halt. He's not... he's not letting Jensen run the show. He's just... just waiting around for Jensen to get his shit together and take him back. Just waiting for Jensen to realize what a good thing he's missing. Just fucking waiting, and when the fuck did that happen?

"I..."

"That's what I thought," Sandy nods in satisfaction, laying her head back down on his chest. "So quit being a pussy and get with the program."

"Sandy!"

"What? I have one; I'm allowed to say it."

"Oh, thoughts I do not want to have."

"Shut up. Now either put on your stupid shoes-of-impending-infection and go talk to your boy or quit wriggling. I need my beauty rest."

"Not possible," he says, sliding out from under her and fishing for his still wet jeans, "you're the single most beautiful creature on the planet." He grins down at her, the joy of rough intent surging through him, and she's grinning right back. What would he do without her?

"Kiss ass,” she mumbles at him as he almost overbalances himself trying to get his feet back into his cold, clammy shoes.

He's halfway down the hall before he remembers the rain, skidding back across the tile to stick his hand in her door just before it closes and grab his umbrella.

***

The dorm's quiet when Jensen finally steps out of his room. Misha's door is shut and he can hear the muffled strains of music throbbing through the wood, maybe his way of urging Jensen to do something, or possibly just studying and Jensen really is a self-centered prick. Ugh.

Fine, he's made his decision, time to get it over with.

It's almost funny that he didn't notice that Jared's room is dark until just now, considering the obsessive hyper-focus he's been directing the kid's way for... well, hell, basically since he met him. Funny in that bang-your-head-against-the-wall-in-frustration kind of way.

He pounds on Misha's door with a little more force than strictly necessary, but when his friend just answers with a confused look and a notable lack of enormous eighteen year old, Jensen waves him off and wanders back to the middle of the living room.

Jared's gone. Jensen's been trying to avoid him for goddamn weeks and _now,_ when he’s finally ready to talk about things, the kid disappears? Great. 

He pulls out his cell phone and scrolls down through the contacts. There's a little star by Jared's name, marking him as one of Jensen's most frequently called numbers. Wonderful, even his cell phone is dropping him hints. There's a second or two delay between the electronic jingle in his earpiece and the sound of 'Push It' erupting from the kitchen. Jared's phone dances across the counter with the vibration of his ringtone - add that to the list of shit they need to discuss, by the way - before Jensen ends the call. What the hell kind of teenager runs off without their cell phone?

 _One who doesn't want to be found_ , his mind helpfully supplies, which... fuck, what the hell does that even mean? Jared's been hanging around - not exactly following Jensen, but not avoiding him either - all this time and all of sudden he's done. He's... He's done?

Oh Jesus. Oh fuckity fuckin' fuck.

His body flushes cold at the thought. Jared can't be done. Jensen's just figured out what he wants, Jared can't give up on him now! Not that Jensen can really blame him; hell, he'd have been over and done with this shit a long time ago if the positions had been flipped. Except maybe he wouldn't have, because as fucking miserable as it's been to walk around with Jared being all happy and smiling and normal toward him, Jensen’s never run very far or very hard, like he didn't really want to get away at all. Which he doesn't. Like maybe kind of ever, if that's still an option.

Shit, he has to find Jared!

A quick glance at the aqua-blue display on the microwave tells him it's just after eight, which means the library's out. Knowing Jared, he's probably at the cafeteria or the bookstore - and not out somewhere getting his dick sucked by the first faceless stranger he meets just to spite Jensen, even if that's the image his brain keeps supplementing.

Jensen's still wearing his sweats, and the rain is pelting down even harder than before, but he doesn't think twice about heading out, stopping to shove his feet into his black motorcycle boots, tucking the pants into the tops, and slide on his leather jacket.

The good umbrella is gone, which means Jensen's stuck with that cheap red one he's pretty sure Mike stole from a bar and it's probably going to break like two seconds after he gets outside - because that's just how shit's working for him today - but he grabs it anyway and does not slam the front door behind him, no matter how much better it would make him feel.

***

Jared is not fuming. Fuming requires fumes and there are no fumes, there is only wild, seething annoyance bordering on homicidal rage.

Jared has never been known for patience and if it wasn't for Mike and Misha both watching him like worried parents - he can't decide if it's weird of not that the bald guy is the mom in this scenario - he'd totally be out there right now looking for Jensen. But, of course, they're right, as soon as he went out looking for him, Jensen would probably come back to their room because they can never seem to go same direction at the same time. This does not make him feel any better.

He's pissed off from all of the arguing points he’s come up with and the pacing's mostly just making him dizzy and his jeans are still wet and gross and they're starting to make him cold but Jensen said he was coming back when Misha called him - or, well, 'motherfucker, ok I'll be right there; don't let the fucker leave again' which is basically the same thing but with an unnecessary overtone of blame, and like hell is Jensen not getting a piece of his mind about that when he gets here - and he's not getting caught with his pants down for this argument. As interesting as his dick may find the idea.

Metal screeches like a banshee as the door opens - they _really_ need to do something about that - and Jensen all but falls into the room, wet as a drowned rat, boots sliding on the floor. Some distant part of Jared's brain appreciates the reversal of the first day they met - maybe Sandy was onto something with that English major idea - but most of him just growls.

Most of him, apparently, includes his voice because he actually hears himself growl as the door bangs shut behind Jensen.

"Now guys-"

Mike doesn't get any farther than that before Jared snaps "Shut up," on top of Jensen's "Fuck off, Mike". He's pretty sure he hears their roommate mutter something like 'excuuuse me' but honestly, Jared has bigger fish to fry.

He's had almost and hour and half since he left Sandy's to get himself good and worked up over this, going over every last moment between him and Jensen that he can scrounge from his memory to fling right back in that stupid prick's face.

"Where the hell have you been!" Jensen shouts before Jared can even get a word out and just fuck that!

"None of your fucking business!" he hurls at Jensen, carefully keeping the couch between them because without a barrier he's either going to choke Jensen to death or fuck him through the floor, and enjoy the hell out of it either way.

"Like fuck!" Jensen tears off his jacket, spiking it to the ground. "We were supposed to be having a conversation about our fucking relationship and you run away like a fucking brat and-"

"Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't at your beck and call, _Jenny_ ," Jared sneers, kneeing onto the couch to throttle the stuffing out of the cushions as he looks at Jensen over the back of it, "But unless I missed something, we don't have a 'fucking relationship' to talk about!"

"We do if I fucking say we do and don't you ever fucking call me that again, Padalecki or I swear to fucking God-"

"Fuck you, _Jenny_! You don't own me!"

"No, I fucking love you, you goddamn asshole, that's what I've been trying to fucking tell you!"

The room is dead silent, or maybe Jared's brain shorted out and he's lost the ability to process sound. It's really kind of hard to tell. In fact, there's even a chance that time has stopped all together because except for the rapid heave of Jensen's chest through the soaked front of his shirt, there's no movement.

Mike and Misha are standing up against one wall; Mike looking back and forth between them like he's waiting to dive on the first one to draw a weapon, while Misha's just got his arms crossed in perturbed resignation. Jensen's as flushed as Jared's ever seen him, post-orgasm not withstanding; his freckles almost blend into his blood-darkened cheeks and the green of his eyes, the glint of metal at his eyebrow, is almost surreal in contrast. But he doesn't really look mad, he looks... shattered, and something hot and shimmering crumples inside of Jared's chest because of it.

"Fuck," Jensen breathes, barely even a word, "how do you bring out the worst possible version of me?"

Jared hasn't got a clue how to respond to that besides maybe 'ditto' so there's a certain relief when Misha snorts, "You think emotionally invested is the worst possible version of you? Seriously, Jensen, I can get you the names of some very fine psychiatrists. They'd have a field day."

"The more you care about someone, the more you want to kill them," he's thinking out loud again, it seems - wonder if Misha can recommend somebody to help him with _that_? - because they all turn to look at him as his mother's words roll through his head. He clears his throat uncomfortably at the sudden attention. "It's a Padalecki trait, apparently." His mouth twitches in a half-hearted smile and after a second it pulls a bark of laughter out of Jensen, who's covering his face with his hands and shaking his head.

"God," is all the older man says through the cage of his fingers.

"You love me?" Jared asks quietly. Somehow anything louder feels obscene in the pervasive stillness. He kind of wishes Mike and Misha weren't standing there right now.

Jensen pulls his hands away from his face with what looks like an effort, but his color's a lot more normal now, and when he says, "Yeah," it sounds almost defeated.

"You're an ass," and Jared's voice sounds just as bad.

Jensen makes a 'hmm' that's almost like a laugh and blinks heavily before he says, "This is the sound of no one arguing with you."

Jared can't keep the smile at bay after that, even if he can feel it getting all mixed up on his face with a sad kind of wariness, because he remembers how things went the last time one of them said that and it ended with them at each other’s throats. Jensen takes a deep breath and meets his look head on; no anger there, but no softness either, nothing but dogged determination.

"Ok, look, I suck at this," Jensen says, a couple to clinging drops of water ticking to the floor as he takes a step closer, "I'm _gonna_ suck at this and freak out and fuck up, probably a lot. But you know, you might fuck it up, too, and that is what it is. We can deal. And yeah, you would probably be better off with any random guy on the street, but I'm a selfish bastard and I want you, so if you’re still willing to put up with my shit, I'm all in."

Jared can feel quiet stretching on for too long, can almost feel the tension build in the line of Jensen's shoulders but he can't seem to get any of that make actual sense and they've been too far down this road to let another misunderstanding mess them up.

"You mean like..."

"The whole nine yards. Dating, boyfriends, dinner and a movie and making everybody sick with how friggin' cute we are. Little cartoon hearts floating around, the works. I'm in."

"Cool."

Jared's like 110% sure that's not what he meant to say, but that's the word his mouth makes and Jensen's face does this weird spasm thing like a smile spontaneously bursting into existence.

"Cool?" he cocks his pierced eyebrow at Jared, lips still quirked, "Cool? That's what you got for me? I do the whole pussy-ass speech thing and you give me 'cool'? You are the worst boyfriend ever."

"Yeah, well, I totally put out," Jared snarks right back. He's grinning so hard his face hurts. He's Jensen's _boyfriend_.

Jensen's hand darts out, grabbing hold of Jared's waistband and pulling him in flush to the smaller man's body. And ok, Jensen is seriously cold and wet, and if this wasn't so awesome, Jared would bitch. They don't quite get to the awesome kissing part which Jared suddenly finds himself all but vibrating for because Jensen shifts his gaze to the side and - hey, Misha and Mike are still here. What do you know?

"Speak now or forever hold your peace, boys," Jensen drawls, as if there's any fucking chance Jared's letting him get away no matter what the guys say.

Misha sighs, expression unmoved. "You two just used some derivation of 'fuck' 13 times. It was sad. Congratulations Jen, you're getting a thesaurus for graduation." With that, he turns on his heel and walks to his room. Jared would swear he catches a smile on the corner of his friend's lips.

"Dude," Mike enthuses, eyes wide and glittering, "I have to go call everybody I've ever met. That was epic!" He does a funny little move that Jared's tempted to call a hop and starts digging his phone out of his pocket. Jared has the weirdest roommates on the planet. Thank God.

He's still grinning stupidly about Mike and Misha and how pretty much everything is suddenly awesome when he looks back down at Jensen. Jensen who's eyes are warm and dark and make several of Jared's important body systems melt and slosh around low in his belly.

"Did I say I love you?" he asks breathlessly, because he can't exactly remember right now but he knows that it was like really important back when he had brain function, "Because I think that was my cue back there and I totally meant to say it."

Somehow they're walking backward toward Jensen's room. Or _Jared’s_ walking backward; Jensen's walking forward and kind of nudging Jared when his legs forget how to move because wow, Jensen can look really predatory. Like, Jared's almost scared, but in a really fantastic way.

"Nope. You didn't say anything," Jensen says smoothly, voice light and teasing with none of the debauched promise of his eyes.

"Oh, well, um, I am now then," Jared fumbles, his shoulder tapping the door frame which nearly sends him into the kind of spastic flail he hasn't pulled since he was thirteen and the most awkward human alive. "I love you, I mean."

Jensen grins evilly, peeling his wet body away from Jared for a moment to kick the door shut.

"Cool."

***

Oh _Motherfuckingsweethelldamnyes_.

Jared keens softly as Jensen turns the little steel ring through his boyfriend's nipple with his tongue. That thing's the best damn present he ever got, and it's not even his birthday. He noses at the spit-wet nub, grinning when even that makes Jared whine and quiver. Could the kid be any more perfect?

Jared's skin is so warm and soft, stretched tight over firm muscle and the length of his long, stiff cock. There's a little swipe of precome wetting Jensen's abs from where he's laying on top of the younger man, a matching one from where he can’t resist rubbing his own needy dick against Jared's powerful thigh. They're barely even started and the smell of sweat and sex is already overwhelming, just adding texture to air thick with Jared's small, increasingly desperate sounds and the little ones Jensen can't hold back either. Oh well, it's about damn time Mike got some payback for all those nights Jensen had to listen to him getting fucked through the mattress by Tom, anyway - noisy bastard.

Jensen's afraid his face may be stuck in a permanent grin.

He catches the little ring with his teeth, just barely pulling, but from the way Jared's cock jumps you'd think Jensen stuck him with a cattle prod.

"Oh God, Jen. Please, please, pleasepleaseplease!" Jared whimpers, hands flying to grip at the slatted headboard like he's holding on for dear life.

"What's wrong, baby?" he teases, but he's already got two fingers coated in saliva and slipping down behind Jared's tight balls. He had only just started to explore how much Jared like having his hole played with when things had fallen apart and Jensen fully intends to make up for lost time.

Jared opens for one easy and Jensen wonders if he's been doing this to himself, laying over in his room just a few feet away while Jensen was laying right in this bed, aching to do it for him. He presses in all the way to the knuckle, fucks in and out a couple of times before adding the second. There's a quick flash of resistance in the muscle, but it gives way quickly, opening up like it wants Jensen in there and Jesus, if he keeps thinking like that he's going to blow all over Jared's leg.

Jay moans for it, hips bucking to fuck himself down in Jensen's fingers as Jensen fumbles blindly for the drawer with his lube and condoms, unable to take his eyes off of Jared's pleasure-shot face. He gets tripped up on the papers littering the drawer, registering for moment what he'd really sort of known all along; there was no way he could go to any other grad school, the only reason to leave would have been to avoid Jared, and even when they'd been screwed up he hadn't been able to more than glance at any of his other acceptance letters. Yep he's officially pathetic, but now he's pathetic and going to get laid, so he's more than ok with that trade off.

He drops the condom on Jared's chest, trying to figure out if he was working on any kind of rhythm at all with his fingers while he drizzles them with lube. The third one slides in smooth as silk after that, Jared's heat clutching at him in a way that makes Jensen have to pull himself away from where he's rubbing against his boyfriend's leg before he wrecks it all.

"Jensen, come on. Now, fuck, please now," Jared chokes out, tongue sweeping out to wet his bruised, puffy lips.

It's so hot, so exactly what he wants, and he's pretty sure a little part of him dies when he forces himself to ask, "Are you sure?" He pulls his fingers out, trying not to unduly influence Jared's decision because this is a big deal 'I love you's or not.

Jared's eyes pop open, iris all but eaten away and he props himself up on his elbows to stare fiercely at where Jensen's sitting between his legs.

"If you stop now, I will beat you to death," he growls, grabbing Jensen's arm so hard there will definitely be marks in the morning and tugs him down on top of him, locking his legs around Jensen's to hold him in place. Jensen's dick blurts a gob of precome so heavy for a second he'd swear he was coming.

"Well ok, then," he gasps, head spinning with the need running rough-shod down his spine. He snatches the foil packet now stuck between their chests and rips it open with his teeth, getting the condom on faster than any human being in history, he's sure.

Then the head is pressed up against Jared's hole and it takes Jensen a second to figure out that last whimper sounded funny because it came out of his own throat. Jared groans impatiently, wiggling his hips back and forth like he can force Jensen inside. It's so _Jared_ that it punches out a breathless laugh, easing some of the bowstring tension in his gut.

"Cockslut," he accuses jokingly against Jared's lips, and the younger man grins up at him.

"Only for you."

Jensen can't do anything but push in after that, because it's right there in Jared's eyes, so open it almost hurts Jensen to see it but he makes himself look anyway. Nobody does this, nobody falls in love with their college roommate when they're eighteen and spends the rest of their lives together; it's the kind of shit the make cheesy movies out of and Jensen would laugh his ass off at anybody who tried to say differently. But it's all there in Jared's eyes and he'll spend every goddamn day of the rest of his life proving himself wrong, because this is worth anything, even breaking the laws of probability.

Blown hazel eyes flutter shut as Jensen works his way in slowly until he's fully seated, pausing to give the frantic muscles, clamping around him almost painfully tight, time to adjust. His hand finds Jared's somewhere on the sheets, and palms flat together, Jensen laces their fingers. So what if he's 'that guy'; 'that guy' feels really good.

Jared pants out "Ok, ok," and Jensen slowly rolls his hips, head falling down into the crook of Jared's neck. Everything is so hot, so tight, like Jared's body was designed for the express purpose of wringing the orgasm out of Jensen as fast as humanly possible. There's no style to it, not a single one of the things he's ever done or had done to him coming to mind because this his _him and Jared_ ; his body's on autopilot and his brain packed it in somewhere back in the living room. Jay doesn't seem to mind sticking with the basics - not like he knows any better anyway - rocking into each thrust and groaning and gasping like a dying man.

Jensen's mouth is running away with him, moaning thick, hungry words into Jared's skin and licking them back up greedily with the taste of sweat. "So good, baby. My baby. All mine. God, yeah. I'm your man, all for me. God, fucking love you, Jay. Make me crazy."

Jared can't seem to do anything but moan, sound pouring out of his near-constantly, only interrupted by the hitch of his breath when Jensen slides in and finds his sweet spot. The noise of it slides through Jensen's veins like molten honey, cloying and thick and filling up every last inch of him until he can barely squeeze in air around how good it is. The long fingers of Jared's free hand card through Jensen's hair, scrabble on the sheen of sweat on his back, roughly palm his ass to pull him even harder into each push.

He can't breathe or see or feel anything beyond Jared; Jared's hand tangled with his own and Jared's legs urging him on, Jared's lips pressing kisses to his temple, Jared's scent filling up his lungs and Jared's steel-hard dick slipping messily through the sweat between their bodies. Jensen does his best to tense up his stomach muscles and apply a little more friction because there's no way he's got enough coordination to actually jerk Jay off, even if he could make himself lose that much contact.

Jared does that cattle prod jerk again, except this time it hits his whole body, every fiber shooting tight and rigid as the space between them flood with sticky heat. Jensen doesn't stand a chance; he gone the second Jared's channel clenches, at the mercy of rippling muscle.

Jensen comes harder than he ever has in his life; every cliché about vision whiting out and seeing stars and all the rest of it hitting him at once. There's a reasonable chance it's going to kill him, and he's pretty much totally ok with that.

He's breathing so hard he's actually coughing, lungs aching like he just did a minute mile, and all he can do is gulp in air from the warm little spot against Jared's neck that he's officially declared as 'home' and let the spasms ride him. He'd never really bought that 'it's better with someone you care about thing' and he feels like he should probably go apologize profusely to somebody about how stupidly wrong he was, but he can't seem to remember knowing anyone but Jared at the moment and he totally doesn't have the capacity to talk now anyway.

"Wow," Jared rasps, voice breathless and shell-shocked, "So. Now I'm addicted to sex."

"Amen," Jensen mumbles, words slightly fuzzy around the edges. At least, he can talk after all, that's gotta be a good sign.

"Hey, Jen?"

"Yeah."

"I love you and all, but you're heavy as fuck."

Jensen groans and pulls out, which makes them both shiver, and even has the dexterity to tie off the condom before chucking it in the trash. There may be hope for a full recovery.

He flops down on his back, the two of them shuffling around lazily to find some way they can both fit on the bed comfortably. At last they settle with Jared laying halfway on him, chest to chest, one leg between Jensen's and his nose buried in the spot behind Jensen's ear. Jensen's got one arm looped around his boyfriend's back holding him in place because if either one of them moves much, somebody is going to end up on the floor. Against all odds, his dick is trying to twitch tenderly back to life next to Jared's leg. Jensen's beginning to think the thing is psychotic, and possibly suicidal. He's willing to keep exploring the idea until they figure it out.

"I'm sleeping here, just so you know," Jared murmurs. Jensen's not sure he's ever heard it sound that deep before.

"That was kinda the plan, doofus," he smiles, since that seems to be his new default setting, and Jared's arm tightens around his waist.

The kid yawns, breath warm and soothing on Jensen's skin and he turns his head in time to catch Jared's lips in a few soft, indolent kisses. They fall asleep with their lips barely separated; it's the most restful night Jensen's had, maybe ever.

***

It's hot already as they step outside and Jared's sweating through his white dress shirt. He'd promised Jensen to keep it basic; apparently his family is still recovering from the pink and orange floral that Jared wore to dinner with them the last time they were in town. They seem to be handling this one pretty well, even if there is a paisley print stitched on it in white thread.

"You totally could, though! It would be so cute!" Jensen's sister carries on as if Jared has not already laughingly turned down her offer to braid his hair a dozen times. He's fairly sure Jen put her up to it, and if it weren't for all of the inevitable pictures that are about to be taken, he'd let her do it just out of spite. Also, it might very well be cute…

"Mackenzie, leave Jared alone," Jensen's mother - Jared cannot get himself to call her Donna, no matter how many times she insists - chides, linking her arm with Jared's as they walk across the lawn from the auditorium. It seems like they ought to have done the ceremony somewhere more impressive, but there were too many graduates to it anywhere else in the school and still have room for an audience.

Black-gowned figures are making their way out the back of the building, rushing into the throng of people waiting on the lawn to greet them.

Chris is hugging Danneel off to one side of the door - Jared thinks there may be something going on there but Jensen shudders anytime he mentions it, so he's mostly keeping those thoughts to himself. Besides, he kind of figures he owes Chris, in a really screwed up way, so he doesn't want to make it any harder for him than it has to be if he really is trying to get with Danneel. He still can't help grinning at the memory of Jensen's face when Chris explained himself to them after they got together.

 _"Ok, look, I'm sick of this girl talk shit, so you're gonna shut up and I'm gonna say this and then we're gonna talk about trucks and beer and chicks with awesome racks, alright? Alright. What I said about you and that fuck up gene was true; you were gonna fuck it up and we were all just sitting around waiting for it to happen"_

 _"So you did it for me!" Jensen screeched girlishly - whatever he might say about the matter, it was girlish._

 _"You’re welcome. And I told you to shut up. So yeah, I fucked it up for you, because if I didn't you were gonna wait until you graduated and moved off and then I was gonna have to listen to your whiny bitch ass for the rest of forever because you let the fucking love of your life get away. And if you ever tell anybody I said 'love of your life' I'll kick your ass so hard there won't be anything left for Jared to fuck. I just got it all out of the way early so now you can be all_ Princess Bride _and romantic and shit, you big homo."_

Jensen had looked like he'd swallowed a golf ball for the next hour or so, but then again, Chris had looked pretty much the same way once Jared mentioned that he was the bottom, though he would prefer of Jen's ass remaining un-kicked anyway. It all seemed to balance out.

Jensen walks out of the auditorium with his arm slung around Misha's shoulders, both of them grinning and quickly getting into a contest over who can bat the tassel on the other's cap the hardest or farthest or something; Jared wasn't really in on the rules.

Jensen breaks off when he sees them, sparkling green eyes flicking between his family and Jared, reaching out for Jared's hand. Misha gets there first though; swooping in faster than Jared can react and pulls his head down into a sloppy kiss. Before Jared really has time to register that _that's Misha's tongue in his mouth_ , it's over and Misha's grinning and ducking away as Jensen tries to smack him on the back of the head.

"Dude!" Jensen yells indignantly, but Misha's ducked around behind Mackenzie, using her as a human shield.

"You totally owed me one!" he defends, laughing when all Jensen can do is huff with a kind of a smile on his face.

“Warn me next time,” Jared chimes in, “I’ll use tongue.”

“Don’t even think about it, Gigantor.”

Jensen's family smiles indulgently; Jared guesses that's what happens after years of Misha's antics.

Soon after that Misha's parents come up and Jensen's family gets sucked into conversation with them, sharing embarrassing childhood stories that Jared absolutely wants to hear, but Jensen holds him back a step or two.

His boyfriend grins up at him, hand settling on the back of Jared's neck in a way that makes his blood pressure rise like a Pavlovian response. Still, Jared hesitates when Jen tries to pull him into a kiss, gaze flying over to his boyfriend's family just a few feet away. Jensen rolls his eyes and pulls a little harder so Jared goes - he's never going to get used to the PDA in front of parents thing.

Jen makes a face as he pulls away, "Gross, you taste like Misha."

"Should I even be surprised that you know what Misha tastes like?" He grins, because it's just impossible not to when he's around Jen nowadays and flicks the cap still perched on Jen’s head. "Nice hat."

"Bite me, Padalecki," Jensen retorts, poking him in the shoulder.

"You think your family's ok with that too?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Jen sighs and mumbles 'pain in the ass' fondly as he drags Jared over to where Mrs. Ackles is holding up a camera, beckoning them. Jared leans in as they walk dipping his head down to whisper into Jensen's ear.

"Love you." He punctuates it with a soft kiss, nosing the point where metal usually shines; Jensen's mother had insisted he take out his studs for the ceremony.

Jensen tilts his head so their noses brush against each other once. His smile is the same soft, guileless one he wears every time when he whispers, "Love you too," right back.


End file.
